New Normal
by JamiW
Summary: Post-ep for Special Master Part 2
1. Chapter 1

**Sharon POV**

* * *

Things are going to be normal.

It's been my mantra since yesterday afternoon, when Rusty stood in my office and said, _"Tomorrow, I'm going back to school. And I'm going to live the rest of my life as if Phillip Stroh didn't matter…"_

This bold statement came after he resolutely declined protection detail, and as much as it terrifies me, I'm also so proud of his determination to live his life, and his dogged resistance to fear.

So no matter what I_ think_ this week is going to be, normal is my goal.

Because it's what Rusty wants. What he needs.

In spite of the fact that there's a man out there who wants to kill him.

I shoved that last thought from my mind because I can't _do_ normal if I'm thinking about that, and then with fresh resolve, I looked at myself in the mirror, finishing the last touches of make-up before leaving for the office.

_It's going to be a normal week_, I thought again, only this time with more tenacity.

Rusty and I are committed to maintaining our routine, such as it is.

Work for me, school for him.

And the routine went smoothly until Monday afternoon. That's when I decided to leave work a little early, so that I could get home ahead of Rusty. I wasn't going to, but I was sitting in my office, thinking about the dimly lit parking garage of our building, and the ease with which Wade Weller managed to gain access, and then the next thing I knew, I was giving direction to Lieutenant Provenza as I breezed past, on my way out the door.

Andy called me as I made the drive home. I knew he would, since I left without so much as a goodbye.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

I paused before answering because he didn't deserve the harsh reply that was on the tip of my tongue.

"I mean, other than…" he added, his voice filled with compassion and understanding.

I sighed heavily, delaying words again because I suddenly felt like crying, and saying something out loud might open the flood gate.

His whispered_ Sharon_ caused a tear to slip out and I just feel so tired and afraid and I hate that I don't know where Stroh is hiding.

"It's fine," I finally managed to say, letting my anger over Stroh's escape override my upset. "I just thought I should be there when he gets home. I know I can't do it every day, but I was just doing paperwork, and if something happened to him while I'm initialing witness statements…"

That would probably just about kill me.

"We're going to find him," he soothed.

"Yes, but when?"

"I don't know, honey," he admitted. "But until then, we've all got your back. We've got the kid's back."

We spoke for another minute or two, and it was only after we hung up that it hit me.

He called me honey.

He's never done that. We don't have pet names for each other.

We're not _there_.

Are we?

I don't know anymore.

I arrived home to a danger-free parking garage, and then I did a sweep of the lobby and confirmed that the handful of 11x14 wanted posters sporting Stroh's picture were still posted prominently, in the entryway, the elevator, the halls…there won't be a repeat of the fox sneaking into the henhouse.

Not if I can help it.

After my vigilant checking and double-checking, I went upstairs so that I could be calmly making dinner when Rusty arrived, and if he was suspicious about my presence so early in the evening, he didn't comment, and the rest of the night passed with amazing normalcy.

On Tuesday, Rusty has class later in the day, so I planned to work a full day and still make it home before him, but a last minute meeting held me up. I drove like a woman possessed, but when I pulled into the garage, I saw Rusty's car already there.

As well as another familiar car.

"Lieutenant Cooper," I greeted with question as I approached his open car window.

He looked sheepish for a split second, and then nodded and said, "Captain."

We shared a long look and then I flashed him a grateful smile before turning and heading for the lobby.

_Amy must have asked him to come_, I thought, and as the words rolled through my head, my cell phone rang.

"I didn't realize you'd left," Andy said when I answered. "I meant to catch you when you got out of your meeting."

"To say goodbye? Andy you know that sometimes…" I began, but he interrupted gently.

"To tell you that you didn't need to hurry. That Rusty would be fine."

"Oh," I responded in surprise. "Oh, so you…"

"Didn't do a thing," he finished, and I swear I can hear his smile. "Because Rusty didn't want security, so there _isn't_ anyone in the garage to make sure that it's safe. Not tonight, and not tomorrow when it's time to leave, either."

"Got it," I said, and now I'm smiling, too. "Andy, that's so…"

I left that sentiment unfinished, because voicing words like _sweet _or _thoughtful _might make it seem like it was a personal favor, rather than a professional one.

And it is, I know.

I mean, the idea that he went to the trouble of arranging to have people here, that Rusty's safety seems as important to him as it is to me…well, that's very personal, and it makes me feel things I'm still not ready to acknowledge.

Because I'm _not_ dating Lieutenant Flynn.

Especially not right now. There's too much going on, too much to think about.

I can't add Andy into the mix.

"So you're home, too? Safe and sound?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered as I stepped off the elevator onto the eleventh floor. "Well, almost. I can see my door, does that count?"

"How about you talk to me until you're inside?" he suggested.

So I did. Actually, after putting him on hold briefly to give Rusty a casual hello - as if I hadn't been worried, since it's such a normal week - I continued talking with Andy as I took off my jacket and shoes and then poured a glass of wine.

And then we talked another twenty minutes after that.

About nothing in particular, but it was nice. Soothing.

_Maybe I've already added him into the mix. _

By Wednesday, I felt more relaxed, and the day almost did seem normal.

Until I got home.

I arrived to find Andy in the condo. He and Rusty were pulling take-out from bags and setting it on the table. Funny that Andy would be here, considering he asked to leave work an hour early for _personal reasons_.

I raised an eyebrow at him, and he smiled and shrugged me off, and then flicked his gaze a couple of times in Rusty's direction before asking about his classes. His body language was easy enough to read, and I could wait until we were alone before getting an explanation, so I slipped out of my shoes and gratefully accepted the glass of wine that Andy held out to me, and then the three of us sat down to dinner.

Afterwards, Rusty headed for his room, and after clearing the dishes, Andy and I sat down on the couch.

"Coop got held up with a case," Andy explained quietly. "I haven't worked out a good rotation yet, so I picked up the slack."

"So you were in the garage when Rusty got home? And he wasn't suspicious?"

"I was carrying bags of burgers and fries. I'm not sure suspicion entered into it," he said with a grin.

"This is…Andy, this is really above and beyond."

"Above and beyond what?" he asked, and it suddenly felt like we were talking about a whole lot more than Rusty's protection.

"You're my…I'm your…we're…"

I gave up talking when I realized I couldn't finish any of those statements, and I dropped my gaze down to my lap, unable to maintain eye contact when he's looking at me like that. Like he cares about me. Like he wants me. Like he's thinking about kissing me.

I think the only reason I can't look is because if I do, he'll see how much I want him, too. How much I care about him. How much I want him to kiss me.

And I just can't.

"We're your family, Sharon," he said and when I continued to avoid his gaze, his tone turned slightly resigned as he added, "We're all in this together. Me, Provenza, Tao, Sanchez, Sykes…even Buzz is helping. He accessed campus security so that he can watch remotely during the day."

Emotion flooded through me at my team's willingness to help, even as the rule-lover in me had to ask, "I hope you made sure that Buzz got permission to view that footage."

I finally brought my eyes up to his, and he flashed me an amused smile as he said, "Come on, you think I'm new at this?"

His remark had me smiling back at him, and we sat there like that for a moment, and then he looked like he wanted to say something more, but then he caught himself and instead got to his feet.

"I'll leave you to your evening," he said, moving towards the door without waiting for my response.

I got up to follow him, and I called out his name. I wasn't sure what to say along with it, but I just knew that I didn't want him to go.

He turned back and looked at me, studying me with a quizzical look on his face, and I suppose that's fair.

He wants to know what we are to each other, but so far I've only sent mixed signals.

We _were_ going to talk about it. About us. After Rusty so perkily laid the evidence out in front of us, in front of Nicole, we let a couple of weeks pass, and then we said we needed to talk about it.

But I procrastinated.

Mostly because I like spending time with him, but I don't _want_ to talk about it.

Just because I get that heady feeling rushing through me when I look at him, that mixture of excitement and anticipation, doesn't mean it's a good idea. I mean, maybe if my life were different, if I weren't the boss, and if Stroh weren't on the loose, and if I weren't too old to be considering something like _dating_.

And as I stood there staring at him, and with that feeling nearly overwhelming me, I decided that maybe I _am_ ready to acknowledge it, even if only to explain it away.

Because I _am_ his boss, and I _am_ concerned about Rusty and I _am_…well, not old, but certainly sliding down the backside of middle aged, so there must be some _other_ reason why my pulse races when he's around. Why my temperature rises and my stomach flutters and why I find myself smiling even in the midst of a crisis.

I'm not sure what that reason might be, but it _can't_ be that I have real feelings for my lieutenant.

But even as I mentally established my denial, I couldn't look away from Andy's eyes, and the trembling in my stomach continued as my refutation was overpowered by another voice in my head, the irrational one that says _he's so cute and sweet and funny and he's got the best smile.._.

"There's no hurry," I said at last. "I can make some coffee."

So he stayed for a couple more hours. It's the most time he's spent in my apartment, and it was relaxed and comfortable, and I felt disappointed when it was time for him to go home.

"I'll see you in the morning," he said as he pulled on his jacket.

I smiled and nodded, afraid to say anything because I've had that feeling all evening, that pleasant, hopeful, buzzing feeling that overrides every manufactured excuse I've come up with…that feeling that makes me want to ask him to stay longer. To stay the night.

And that just can't happen.

He smiled back at me, and then kissed me on the cheek before turning to leave. I stood and stared at the door for several long seconds after he was gone.

"It doesn't do anything on its own," Rusty said smartly, having entered the room while my gaze was still locked on the door.

"Oh, funny guy," I replied as I finally turned away from the door. Rusty was in the middle of the room, just looking at me, so I asked, "What is it?"

"Flynn's gone?"

"Yes, why?" I asked, suddenly wondering if _he_ felt more safe with Andy here.

"Just curious," he said with a casual shrug, relieving my concern. "He stayed awhile, huh?"

"Yes," I answered carefully.

"So does that mean you're admitting it now?"

"Admitting what?"

He stared at me for another beat and then rolled his eyes dramatically before heading back to his room, saying as he walked away, "Oh my God…what does he have to do, Sharon? Spell it out in big, bold letters across the murder board?"

His door closed as he finished his remark, so he clearly didn't expect a response, but that's good because I'm not sure what I might've said.

And how is it that we're talking about me and Andy, with everything else that's going on?

On Thursday morning, I walked with Rusty down to the garage. I was casual in my perusal, looking to see who was on unofficial duty this morning, but I didn't see anyone until after Rusty pulled out. An unmarked unit followed him. I stared after it in surprise, because keeping an eye on my garage twice a day is one thing, but a unit tailing him…

My cell phone buzzed, and I looked down to see a text from Taylor.

_**I freed up some money in the budget to help keep an eye on the kid. **_

It was nice of him to say, but there's no spare money in the budget, and we both know it.

_Volunteers_, I thought. Rallied by my squad, with Andy leading the charge, no doubt.

The warmth over the gesture combined with my sense of relief that Rusty is safe, and I found myself smiling a broad, genuine smile.

A quiet tail, Buzz watching video surveillance, an extra set of eyes in the garage…it goes a long way towards easing my mind. I know we can't go on like this forever, but maybe we'll catch Stroh sooner rather than later.

The rest of Thursday passed uneventful, and I actually got a lot of work done, since I was able to let Rusty slip from my mind for minutes at a time.

Andy didn't come over Thursday evening, but I did offer Amy a discreet wave as I left the parking garage, heading for the lobby.

I had good people when I worked for PSB, but they're nothing compared to my current division. I wouldn't trade them for anything.

"You think maybe you'll sleep tonight?"

That's what Andy asked when I answered his call just as I was climbing into bed. It made me happier than I care to admit that he was calling to check on me.

"I hope so. Because of you," I answered.

Once the words were out, said in a low, husky tone, I realized they sounded suggestive, and I felt the color flood my cheeks as I wondered if he picked up on it.

His extended silence tells me he did.

"I mean, the security," I added at last, sounding as flustered as I felt. "I wasn't trying to suggest…"

I trailed off as he started chuckling, and I had to laugh, too.

"That I wore you out enough to put you to sleep?" he said, causing an abrupt end to my laughter. Instead, an intense heat zipped through me, brought on by the mere suggestion of his words and the detailed imagery that went along with them.

I drew in a sharp breath as I tried to think of what to say, but I came up empty. He was kidding. I know he was kidding, but at the same time, isn't that what I was thinking last night? That I'd like to have him in my bed? So does his joke mean he's thinking the same thing? And why does that thought turn me on so much?

"I'm sorry. Maybe I shouldn't have said that," he said quietly after a long silence, and then I felt bad that I was letting the moment get away.

"I don't want you to censor yourself. You can say whatever's on your mind," I said at last. And again, my voice sounds sultry, and provocative, and I didn't do that on purpose, but I can hear it, and maybe it's that we're on the phone, and I'm in the bed, in the dark…maybe it's all of those things that makes me feel brave enough to embark into new territory, one where we actually talk about our feelings.

"You," he said simply, and I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't, so I asked, "Me?"

"You're what's on my mind."

And it was his turn to sound sexy, and that heat I felt a moment ago has turned into a raging inferno.

"Oh."

"All the time," he continued. "And I know you've got a lot on your plate right now, but Sharon, I'm not going anywhere. And once we get Stroh…"

His confidence in what he feels for me is a little overwhelming, but it's also really nice. I can't remember a time when I felt so _wanted_.

"We'll talk," I agreed.

"Just talk?" he asked playfully.

"Isn't that what you were going to do? To wear me out, I mean. Because trust me, talking to you can be exhausting," I teased.

He chuckled again, and then said, "Are you sure you don't want me to censor myself? Because I can tell you, if you want."

He was putting the ball back in my court, because this conversation was getting very dangerous. The _good_ kind of dangerous, but still…

"Or maybe I'll wait," he said, interrupting my internal debate.

"For what?" I asked, almost slightly disappointed that he wasn't going to share.

"Until I can show you instead."

I know a lot about Andy Flynn. I know his history, both personal and professional, and I know his quirks and his likes and dislikes, and his sharp sense of humor, and I even know the feel of his lips against my cheek.

But I had no idea he could be so devastatingly arousing just with words and tone. I had trouble sleeping again, only that night, it was because of Andy.

I kept thinking about his implied promise that at some point - soon, I hope - he's going to show me the things he wants to do to me.

_And_ about the fact that - during a time when we were steadfastly _not_ discussing our relationship - we somehow managed to turn it from caring companionship into something much more heated and intimate.

And that I'm okay with all of it.

No, not just okay with it.

Excited and anxious about it.

Although the next morning, I regressed. For some reason, the rising sun was like a flashlight on all of my insecurities. I'm his boss…we're too old to just fall into bed together…and for the love of God, Stroh is still out there somewhere.

"Sleep well?"

It was Andy's voice, right behind me as I got onto the elevator Friday morning. Earlier, I'd watched Rusty drive away from the garage, his secret detail on duty, and I felt a sense of guilt about disregarding Rusty's wishes about security. Not enough to make me call it off, but enough that I was still thinking about it after arriving at work, so Andy's presence startled me.

"Sorry," he said immediately when I jumped and moved away from him.

"No, I was just…my mind was elsewhere," I answered. Making eye contact with him was difficult after our previous night's conversation, so I focused on the floor instead.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," I said, and then made myself look at him as I said with more conviction, "Yes, I'm fine."

"Okay," he said, clearly confused by my standoffish attitude.

"it's just…it's been a stressful week," I said in an attempt to clarify.

He nodded, and my guilt over Rusty was compounded by guilt about Andy. I don't know why this is so difficult for me. I like him. He likes me. Why does anything else have to matter?

"Why don't you let me take you and the kid to dinner tonight?" he asked as the elevator doors opened, and he gestured for me to get off ahead of him. He followed, easing up beside me with a light hand on the small of my back, and I found myself relaxing just from his proximity.

"You don't have to do that," I said, coming to a stop just outside the door of Major Crimes so that we could finish our conversation. "The protection you arranged seems to be running like a well-oiled machine now."

"Glad to hear it," he said, his soft brown eyes watching me intently, and there it is again, just from the way he looks at me. That feeling. Right here, outside Major Crimes.

"But maybe I just want to spend time with you," he added quietly.

It occurred to me that he's very possibly the most thoughtful man I've ever met.

After our conversation last night, he could have put on the full court press. I _was _being suggestive, so it would've been understandable for him to think he had the green light.

But he's not pressuring me. And he invited Rusty to go along with us. Partly because I might worry about him otherwise, but also because having my son there will provide a buffer. It'll keep me from panicking over what might happen. And how _Andy_ knows I might panic, I have no idea, but it scares me and thrills me that he does.

"Please?" he asked when I still didn't respond, and his expression was playful as he shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to say no. I don't know why I'd want to.

"I have a late meeting, so it won't be five. Can you give me an extra hour?" I relented.

Andy smiled fully and lowered his voice as he said, "I'll give you however much time you need."

Then he winked at me and went into Major Crimes, leaving me to stand in the hall and analyze the layers beneath his words.

He _has_ given me time. He's really asked for nothing from me, all while being a constant source of support and friendship for me, and the majority of that time, I've been in complete and utter denial. How frustrating that must be for him, and yet he's never given me any indication that he's anything but happy with whatever time I offer him.

What does he see in me that inspires him with so much patience?

I have no idea, but I don't like the realization of how one-sided things have been.

And my excuses for holding back are just that. Excuses. We're not too old for sex. We're old enough to be smart about it and for no one to care what goes on inside the bedroom. And yes, I'm his boss, but that can be handled with a quick memo and a tolerance for some juvenile chiding from Taylor. And as for Stroh…I have to agree with Rusty. Life is for living, and we can't wait around until Stroh is caught because what if that never happens?

I ruminated over my bold epiphanies all throughout the day, and by the time we got to dinner, I felt sure that I was right.

About everything.

So as Rusty chattered away about classes and professors and assignments, I eased closer to Andy, moving so that my leg was pressed against his as we sat next to each other in the booth. He glanced at me in surprise, because I'm rarely ever the one to initiate contact, but it felt good, and he smiled at me as I rested my hand on his thigh, and that fluttery, anticipatory feeling rolled through me again. I could barely focus on Rusty's story because it felt like every part of me was attuned to Andy. We stayed like that all throughout dinner, and afterwards, he walked us to Rusty's car.

"So I'll pick you up in the morning?" Andy said to me, lingering near the passenger side door as Rusty climbed into the driver's seat.

"If you're sure you don't mind," I replied. It had been his suggestion as we left the office, that Rusty and I ride together and leave my car at work.

"I don't," he assured me. "This was nice tonight. Thank you."

"It was your idea," I reminded him with a smile. "And you picked up the check. "

"Not the meal…" he began, but then he trailed off for a moment before starting over. "I mean, the closeness. This morning you seemed distant, and I was afraid that our conversation last night…"

He stopped talking again when I went up on my toes and pressed my lips against his cheek. It was my first time kissing him, and it was brief but I still found myself cataloging the feel of his skin and its light covering of late-night stubble. Very, very nice.

"Thank you for dinner," I said softly, enjoying how he was slow to open his eyes. "It was exactly what I needed."

"Text me when you get home?"

"How about I call you instead?"

His answering smile started a simmering heat inside of me, and that combined with the lingering tingling in my lips had me murmuring a hasty good night and climbing into the car.

Rusty smirked at me as he pulled away from the curb, and then he mumbled something that sounded a lot like _definitely not dating_, but I didn't feel the urge to argue the point, especially since I couldn't seem to stop smiling, so I let the comment slide and the two of us were quiet for several miles, until he looked in the rearview mirror purposefully and said, "I can't tell. Are Heckle and Jeckle back there?"

I looked at him in surprise, a denial on the tip of my tongue, but lying isn't in my wheelhouse.

"You know about that? I'm sorry. I didn't…I mean, it wasn't…I can put an end to it," I finished on a sigh. "If you really want me to."

"Sharon, I told you I don't want to live my life essentially in prison."

I know."

"But," he added meaningfully. "The shadow hasn't cramped my style. And if it's making you feel better about the situation, then I'm okay with it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. "It's not like last time, when I couldn't go to the bathroom alone. At least these guys stay out of sight."

I was relieved at both his maturity and his acceptance.

"I really am sorry. I didn't know until yesterday, but I should've told you."

He rolled his eyes and grinned at me as he said, "It's okay, Mom."

He's such a sweet kid.

_I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to him._

When we got home, the parking garage felt ominous. I don't know why, because nothing seemed amiss, but my light mood turned instantly vigilant.

And Rusty was right about the detail. They're volunteer, so they don't stick around once he's with me.

"Hang on," I said, putting my hand briefly on his arm, and then reaching for my purse before getting out of the car. I didn't pull out my weapon, but I did get a good grip on it, inside of my purse, as I scrutinized the interior of the garage, and then I exhaled heavily in relief when I recognized the car.

"Julio, what are you doing here?" I asked as I let go of my gun and approached his vehicle.

"I figured this was a good way to spend my suspension, ma'am. "

"Skulking around in my garage?" I questioned, touched by his concern even though I'm still a little frustrated with him. I know he's working on his issues, and he's going to classes but his latest infraction couldn't be ignored, and it put me in a difficult position. In the end, it was better that a swift punishment come from me than a long, drawn-out session with internal affairs, and fortunately I still have enough pull down there to have my word appease their inquiry.

"Ma'am, the tip line fielded a Stroh sighting this afternoon, only a few miles from here," he admitted.

"There have been dozens of reported sightings, " I reasoned, hoping to mask my fear with rationale.

"This was a good one," he said firmly. "I thought I'd make a pass, and since I didn't see either car, I figured I'd wait around until you got home. Want me to walk you up?"

He phrased it as a question, but he got out of the car as he said it, clearly expecting me to agree.

"It's really not necessary," I said, waving to Rusty to let him know all was well.

"I know it isn't, but it would make me feel better."

So I let him come up, where I fixed him a cup of coffee, and we talked for a while, which was actually a good thing, helping smooth out the rough edges between us.

He stayed until around ten-thirty, and then he left, reminding me that his five days were up tomorrow, and he'd be at the office to help in the hunt for Stroh.

Once he was gone, I got ready for bed, and then climbed in, my phone in hand. I had texted Andy earlier to let him know that we were home safely but that I wouldn't be able to call until later, and it caught me by surprise as I settled under the covers to realize that I was looking forward to the conversation.

Normal Friday night, right? Me, spending hours on the phone with Andy while in bed. And he was in bed, too. He admitted that a few minutes into the conversation, so then of course I had to imagine what he looked like, and what he might wear to bed, and we strayed into risqué topics a time or two, but mostly it was just comfortable and intimate and it made me wonder if he likes to talk in bed _in person_, too, or if - once we get to that place - he's the type to just go to sleep afterwards. The novelty of me will wear off and he won't want to know more about me, he'll just want to sleep.

It's possible, but something tells me he's not like that. It make me curious to find out.

We talked well into the night, and after hanging up, I drifted into a much-needed, peaceful sleep, not stirring again until the alarm went off this morning.

It's Saturday, and we're working so that we can focus on Stroh. Andy's picking me up in twenty minutes and Rusty is sleeping in, and after finishing my hair, I took an extra minute in front of the mirror, thinking about how _not_ normal this week turned out to be.

But not normal in a good way. Because really, if you remove the Stroh factor from the week, it's actually been pretty great.

I ran my hand over my hair once more, and then paused again as I took another second to try to see myself through Andy's eyes.

What does he see when he looks at me?

I don't know, but I think I'll ask him, during our next late-night phone call. I almost laughed when my cell rang, thinking it was Andy and that maybe I'd be brave and ask him a hard question in the light of day, but when I checked the display, I saw that it was Chief Taylor.

On a Saturday morning.

_Not normal, for sure, but maybe it's the new normal_, I decided with optimism.

"What time is your team coming in?" he asked without preamble.

"Nine. Why?"

"Internal Affairs has taken over Major Crimes. Everyone gets interviewed, and everyone cooperates, is that understood?"

"Yes, Chief, but…what's going on?"

He was silent for a minute but then he exhaled heavily and said, "It's over, Sharon."

His use of my first name threw me so much that at first, his words didn't register.

"Over?"

"Stroh. He's dead."

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Sharon POV**

* * *

This wasn't the outcome I was hoping for.

I wanted Stroh to pay for his crimes by spending the rest of his life behind bars. I'm never happy when someone ends up dead, no matter who they are or what they've done.

Of course, I can't say I'm upset about it either. Not this time.

Because my son is safe again.

And as for Stroh…well, as I've said before, it's usually about the company you keep. If you spend your time with criminals, eventually you either end up dead, in jail, or a witness.

Stroh didn't only associate with criminals, but he became one himself.

He made his own choices.

And apparently his choice was to plan an attack on Rusty, in our home, because Stroh's body was found only two blocks from our building.

My first instinct was to want to go to the scene, to get visual confirmation, but Taylor ordered me to stay away.

"I need you at the office," he said firmly. "IA wants to get ahead of this thing."

"Ahead of this thing," I repeated, my tone laced with defensiveness. "So you think someone in my squad practiced vigilante justice?"

The idea of being investigated for a crime simply by virtue of its victim has me incensed.

"No, but I'm saying that once the press gets wind of the fact that Stroh was killed near your home, and that your son was a likely target of the victim, it's not going to look good. There'll be speculation."

"So who's investigating the murder? Come on, Chief. Since when do we let the press dictate our course of action? This is a fugitive, an escaped prisoner…it's a Major Crime."

"Captain, no one from your division touches this thing until after you're cleared," he stated sharply, and as I bristled, he lightened his tone to say, "I'll go to the scene, to make sure it's handled properly. But your people go to the office. I want alibis documented before rumors start flying. Your entire squad knew about the reported sightings in your neighborhood. It wouldn't be a stretch to think one of your people might've spent some time driving past your building, and if they caught sight of him…"

"Then they would've arrested him."

"Even after the number of times he's slipped through the system? Come on, it's no secret that Detective Sanchez can't control his temper. Lieutenant Flynn has a history, too."

"You think Andy did this? Or Julio?" I questioned with a raised voice. "What about me, Chief? Do you want my alibi, too? How many people do you think might have a good reason to kill someone like Phillip Stroh?"

"Too many," he agreed, his tone even, and I know he's trying to calm me down, and I also know that as much as I hate it, he's doing the right thing by clearing _all _of us before_ any _of us become suspects. It'll keep the water unmuddied as the investigation progresses.

But I still don't like it.

"So come on in and deal with IA. Once they're satisfied, Major Crimes will be cleared to work the case."

"With hours lost," I groused.

"I'll make sure that Robbery Homicide handles the basic fact gathering. Morales can get going on the autopsy, and SID can do their job. You'll have plenty of leads to work from by the time you take over."

I mumbled my agreement, and then I was surprised to hear him chuckle.

"Chief?" I asked, the single word a demand for an explanation.

"I'm sorry, it's just…you kind of reminded me of Chief Johnson for a minute there. You know everything I'm asking you to do is by the book, right?"

I closed my eyes as I shook my head in annoyance at his remark, even though he has a point.

"Of course I know that," I responded.

"Good. And Captain…this is a good thing. The kid never has to give Phillip Stroh another thought."

I hung up with him and exhaled heavily as his words sunk in.

No more Stroh.

I repeated the statement several times in my head and then I turned around, planning to wake up Rusty to give him the news, but I found him standing in the hall behind me.

"What's going on?"

"I thought you were sleeping in," I deflected, stalling briefly simply because I know my words are going to be a bombshell. Like I said, it's good news, and yet…it's unsettling somehow.

"You were pretty loud," he said as he took a step closer to me. "And I heard Stroh's name. Has he been caught? Or did he hurt someone else?"

"No. Um…actually, he's dead. He was found just a little while ago."

"How? Who? Wait, what hap…" he began, and then he stopped talking and instead lurched forward and pulled me into a hug. I felt the air rush out of him as he sagged heavily against me, and it was a glimpse into just how much it had taken from him, to carry on like normal while Stroh was looking for him.

"I can't believe it's over," he murmured, his face still buried in the crook of my neck. "So quickly, too. I mean, I knew you'd catch him but this…wow, he's really dead?"

"Yes, he is. And you know, Rusty, I'm just so proud of you. The way you handled yourself this past week, in light of everything going on…I just don't have any other words. I'm so, so proud."

He hugged me tighter for a brief moment, and then let me go, and as he stood back, I noticed his eyes were glassy with tears of relief, but he blinked them back and then smiled broadly.

"You know what? I think I'm going to take a long walk. Maybe play chess in the park. Wander around the mall, then…I don't know. Do something outside, completely by myself, without anyone watching me."

"Sounds like a great day," I agreed, smiling back at him and then patting him on the arm briefly as I asked, "So you're okay, right? If I need to go into work…"

"Sharon, go. Really. I'm sure Flynn's on his way to pick you up, right? Wait, do you have to investigate who killed him? I mean, does anyone actually care? He might not have been convicted yet for what he did to all those women, but he killed that judge, too."

"It'll be investigated," I said vaguely. "And yes, Andy should be here any minute, so if you're sure you're good…"

He was, so I went back to my room with the intent of touching up my make-up one last time because I'd shed a few tears of my own over the latest development. One glance in the mirror told me that my waterproof mascara was living up to its name, but I still primped for an extra minute before catching myself.

_What am I doing? _

My practical side answered by saying that I always make a point to look my best, to look professional, before going into the office because that's just who I am, but then the nineteen year old side of me pointed out that I'd gone the extra mile this morning.

_To look good for Andy._

I stared at myself for another beat and then shook my head in irritation because I can't believe I'm spending time on something so frivolous, and he probably won't even notice. I mean, I know he likes me. I can see that now, and I appreciate that, but I'm also pretty sure that it doesn't have anything to do with the way I look. Or at least, he's never mentioned it.

Of course, I've never said anything to him either, and I _do _like the way he looks.

Oh my God, I'm definitely too old for this.

I put an end to my juvenile musings, and after saying goodbye to Rusty, I went downstairs to find that Andy had just pulled up in front of the building.

"Good timing," I remarked with a smile as I got into the car.

I'd planned to tell him about Stroh right away, but when I looked up from buckling my seat belt, I found him still looking at me.

"Is it inappropriate of me to say that you look really nice this morning?" he asked, and I couldn't stop the smile that came from his casual compliment.

"Since it's just the two of us, no, it's not inappropriate," I responded. "And thank you."

"Did you sleep okay?"

His voice, as he asked the question, was soft and intimate, and I felt an unexpected wave of elation, like I wanted to laugh and dance and…I'm not sure what else, but all of a sudden it seems that life is _so_ good, because Rusty isn't in danger anymore and he'll never have to testify, and on top of that, I have this handsome man smiling at me, and staring at me like I'm the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

"I did," I answered quietly, and the urge to kiss him is just so overwhelming but we're supposed to be on our way to work, and I still haven't told him about Stroh, so…

I shook my head a little, to clear the haze, and then I sat back in my seat as I said, "I have news."

He raised his eyebrow, encouraging me to continue, and I like that he kept his focus on me, rather than putting the car in gear to start the drive.

He can tell it's important.

"Stroh's dead. It happened a couple of blocks from here."

"Are you kidding me? When? How?"

"I don't know details, although I do know they just found him a little while ago. Taylor's on his way to the scene."

"Taylor? What about us?"

"We have to go to the office."

I paused there, because I know my next statement is going to set him off, although I don't blame him because it set me off, too.

"Internal Affairs needs to interview each of us," I said at last.

_"_What? We're being investigated?"

"My son was in danger. The squad got reports of Stroh being in the area. It could look like one of my detectives was being overprotective," I said, ticking off the reasons rationally.

"One of them. You mean, like me?"

"We're all being investigated," I clarified. "It's protocol with something like this. Once we're cleared, we'll take over the case."

"Huh," he grumbled. "I _wish _I'd run into Stroh. If I had…well, trust me, honey, if I'd killed him, I wouldn't be trying to cover it up. I'd be waiting for someone to pin a damn medal on my chest."

"And that is exactly what you _don't _say to IA," I warned him.

He rolled his eyes, even as he nodded in agreement, and then he added with incredulity, "They can't possibly think any of us actually did this. I mean, that we did it and then tried to hide it."

"It's preemptive," I reminded him. "We'll do what we have to do with IA, and then we'll get to work, okay?"

His temper was only at half-speed. Not even half-speed, really, but rather just indignation over being treated like a suspect. God knows he's dealt with that often enough over the course of his career - many times at my hand, I might add - so it's an annoyance for him, more so than a surprise.

He finally huffed in acceptance and then he smiled as he said, "So the kid's in the clear. No threat, no trial, no testimony."

"That's right," I said, matching his smile. And I'm euphoric again, reveling in this moment because Andy's right. As relieved as I am that Rusty's life is no longer in danger, he also doesn't have the trial hanging over his head anymore, either. No impact statement, or witness stand.

It's just over.

And that makes me feel really good.

Good enough that I took a moment to reflect on the fact that Andy called me honey again. I don't know why I like it so much, but I do.

"He must be dancing a jig right about now," Andy remarked, still ruminating on Rusty's mood.

"He did mention spending the day out in the open. Alone," I replied.

"Good for him. So I guess he probably doesn't want to go out to dinner tonight, huh?"

"Probably not," I agreed.

"So then, how about just you and me?" he asked carefully, and as he phrased the question, he reached over and touched the back of hand, just lightly with the end of his finger. I can't believe how much the barely-there contact warms my blood.

"A date?" I asked coyly.

"Well, if we aren't dating, then I don't see how it could be called a date," he teased. His finger lingered for another second, tracing over my hand, and then he moved it away, reaching over to put the car in gear, essentially letting me off the hook for any response.

_He's giving me time_, I thought. Again.

He has no expectation that I'll actually acquiesce to an official date.

"Andy," I said, and it was my turn to touch him, putting my hand over his where it rested on the gear shift, bringing his attention back to me. "You look really nice this morning, too."

The words surprised us both, I think, because I'd meant to just say yes to the date, but when he turned to look at me, I was struck by just how attractive he really is, and how I've never offered him any indication that I think so, so the compliment came rolling out. And it flustered him, I think. It was cute, really, that his cheeks turned a little red. It was the first suggestion I've seen that maybe he doesn't have an overabundance of confidence. That maybe he's feeling his way through this, just like me.

It made me want to kiss him.

But I didn't.

Instead, I patted his hand a couple of times, and then sat back in the seat as he pulled the car away from the curb and started the drive to the office.

Along the way, I gave him a few reminders of what _not_ to say to Internal Affairs, but when we got there, I still wasn't assured of his compliance. As good as his mood was when we were discussing personal things, it was equally bristly when the focus was on the IA inquiry. It would be just like him to fire off a sarcastic remark and end up the subject of a full-blown investigation.

"Hey," I said softly, bumping his side with my hand as we approached the door to Major Crimes.

He stopped and looked at me, and the transformation of his expression as he looked at me - going from intense ire over the current issue to something else, something soft and caring and warm - it rendered me speechless for a second, because as much as he's let me see his emotions in the past, this is something more, and I'm not sure if I have a full grasp on the depth of his feelings for me.

It almost makes me feel light-headed.

"Um…I'm not sure if I said," I finally managed. "But yes. To tonight."

"The date?" he clarified, breaking into a full smile that sent that now-familiar rush through me.

"Yes," I answered, cursing myself for sounding so breathless when we are where we are, about to do what we're about to do. I need to get my head on straight.

I purposely stopped smiling as I tipped my head towards the door and asked, "Are you ready?"

He took my cue, even though he winked at me before he schooled his features, and then he nodded and reached for the door.

I murmured, "Be nice," as he held the door for me, and he furrowed his brow, but then when I added, "If you're stuck here answering more questions, we won't be able to go to dinner," and he immediately loosened up.

"Now _that _would be a crime," he said under his breath, and then we entered the room.

Taylor wasn't kidding when he said Internal Affairs was taking over Major Crimes. No less than eight IA detectives hovered around the room, spread out in what I assume is an attempt to keep the conversation to a minimum.

And I get it, I really do.

But again, I just don't like it.

"What the hell is going on here, Captain?" Provenza asked, but his remark called attention to my arrival and a detective I don't recognize quickly spoke up.

"Captain Raydor, I don't believe we've met," he said as he approached me, his hand extended. "I'm Captain Wright, the new head of Internal Affairs."

"The title must be _very_ new," I remarked as I shook his hand. We've had a lot of dealings with IA recently and I've never heard of him.

"Technically, my start date is Monday, but in light of the circumstances, I was called in a little early," he answered, and he continued to hold my hand, using a classic excessive-grip technique in an apparent attempt to daunt me as he said, "I know your people have questions, but we're going to do this my way."

"Of course," I responded with polite venom as I retracted my hand. Wright shifted his gaze to Andy, who was still standing next to me, and then he said, "I presume you're Lieutenant Flynn, since the others are accounted for. I hope your captain didn't disclose any privileged information, seeing as how the two of you arrived together."

His eyes bounced back and forth, looking from me to Andy and then back again, and I don't like the knowing smirk that settled on his face, nor do I appreciate his condescending attitude.

"She didn't," Andy said sharply, crossing his arms over his chest and standing up just a little bit taller.

"I _did_ mention the highlights," I clarified, because I'm not going to let this guy try to catch us in a lie. "But considering I'm light on details myself, I can assure you that it went no further."

Taylor never told me not to discuss what happened with my squad. In fact, he acted as if the inquiry was strictly compulsory, so I don't know what Wright's problem is, but I don't like him already.

_He's posturing_, I decided with distaste.

"Captain?" Amy asked with uncertainty as another detective loomed near her desk. I glanced around at the rest of my squad and I can see the question on each of their faces, as well as the indignation over our current treatment, and that really makes me mad.

We've done nothing to deserve this.

Wright whirled on her, clearly about to read her the riot act for speaking, but I brushed past him, moving towards the middle of the room as I said confidently, "It's fine, everyone, really. Internal Affairs has a few questions for us of us, and when they're done, we have a case to get started on, so let's be cooperative and let them do their jobs."

"You're with me," Wright said purposefully as he jabbed a finger in my direction. As if I'm supposed to be intimidated by him.

That's not going to happen.

"We can use the conference room next to my office," I stated, subtly reminding him that he's on my turf, and then without waiting for his agreement, I turned and headed in that direction.

Wright took his time joining me, stalling for a few minutes to give orders to his detectives, and then he strolled into the room with confidence bordering on arrogance.

"I've read up on Major Crimes. Seems this department has been in a great deal of trouble since its inception."

"That's not exactly true," I countered.

"Deputy Chief Johnson was the subject of one of the largest law suits ever to be filed against the department."

"The suit against her was dropped," I pointed out.

"Right," he said, smiling sourly as he moved over to the table and then sat down across from me. "What was it, three years ago? Not long after, you took over the division, right? And you used to have my job."

"I'm sorry, but what does any of this have to do with Phillip Stroh?"

"It doesn't. I'm just proving a point. It's my job to know things. It's what I'm good at. I research, I ask questions, and I see through the bullshit."

"We're all good at that, Captain. It's called being a detective," I answered smartly.

He chuckled mirthlessly and said, "Touché, Captain," and then he made a show out of getting out a pen and opening his notebook before stating, "Phillip Stroh."

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't. Instead he just looked at me inquisitively until I said, "If that's supposed to be a question, I think you're missing the interrogative."

"I certainly hope your squad is being more cooperative than you," he remarked as he jotted something down.

_I doubt it_, I thought, but then I decided that the faster I tell him what he wants to know, the sooner I can get him out of Major Crimes.

"Chief Taylor called me this morning to tell me that he'd been found, murdered," I stated. "I don't know any details, just that he's dead."

"Found two blocks from your home."

"Yes."

"So you do know some detail."

I sighed heavily as I felt a headache blossom behind my eyes, and then I said, "Yes, he mentioned the location, since it's what prompted the inquiry by IA."

"Where were you last night?"

"I went to dinner, and I arrived home around nine-thirty."

"Were you alone?"

"No," I answered, and when he smirked and raised an eyebrow, I added, "My son was with me."

"Right. Your adopted son, the one Stroh wanted to kill. Convenient for the both of you, now that he's dead, isn't it?"

"I suppose so, yes."

He held my gaze for an extra beat, waiting to see if I'd elaborate, and then he asked, "Was anyone else with you?"

"Once I got home? Yes, Detective Sanchez. He left at ten-thirty."

"Really?" he asked in disbelief. "Detective Sanchez?"

He made another note, writing with great fanfare as if it were something scandalous, and then he sat back and looked me in the eye as he asked, "Is he your lover?"

Outrage flooded me at his suggestion, although it was tempered by the realization that it's not so far-fetched. Not with Julio, but with Andy, I mean. He and I _aren't _lovers, but it's certainly a step I want to take, so I suppose the accusation of me having an affair with one of my detectives isn't that far out of line.

But still…

"Absolutely not," I answered stiffly.

"Then why was he at your place, late in the evening? Is it because he knew Stroh was in the area?"

"Yes. He was concerned for my son's safety. He walked us upstairs, and we talked for a while, and then he left."

"What did you talk about? How much easier your life would be if Stroh were dead?"

"No."

"What would you say if I told you that Stroh was killed with a police-issue weapon?"

"I'd say there's no possible way for you to know that at this point," I answered coolly. "There hasn't been enough time for ballistics."

He put down his pen and smiled at me and said, "I've asked around about your squad. No one wanted you here, when you first got this job, but now they'd all lay down their lives for you. They all respect you. They all want to _protect _you."

He made the statement as if it were damning, but it only invoked pride in me.

"And none of them are killers," I responded without hesitation.

The interview was over fairly quickly after that, with him asking a few more questions and then requesting that I submit to a GSR test, which I did.

"So am I in the clear?" I asked acerbically as we left the conference room.

"For now, Captain," he answered with self-importance, ignoring my sarcasm. "Give me a few hours to go over the notes from the other interviews, and then I'll see if I can give your division a clean bill of health."

"A few hours? Do you realize how far behind that puts us in the investigation?"

"And surely _you_ realize that if you join the investigation before I clear you, and then one of your detectives turns out to be a suspect, that's another massive lawsuit waiting to happen. Not to mention the bad press…it'll scream cover up, don't you think?"

He gestured to his squad that it was time to leave, all of them having finished their interviews as well, and then before walking out the door, he looked back at me and said, "Or maybe that's exactly what you're trying to do. Cover it up."

The door closed behind him before I could respond, but I heard Andy mutter _asshole_ at the same time that Provenza said, "What the hell was that?"

I took a deep breath and turned around to face everyone, and they were all looking at me, clearly still wanting an explanation.

"What happened last night?" Amy asked. "Why did I have to account for my time?"

"It has something to do with Stroh," Julio said. "After I told them I was at your place, ma'am, they asked how much longer I stayed in the neighborhood."

"You were at her place last night?" Lieutenant Provenza asked as he spun around in his chair.

"Staking out the garage," Julio answered with a roll of his eyes. "And drinking coffee."

"Phillip Stroh is dead," I announced, surprised that the interviews were completed without anyone offering up that knowledge. Of course, Andy knows, but no one else did.

I stood silently while conversation filled the room, and I suppose it's a good thing that they weren't told beforehand because I heard a lot of remarks like _good riddance_ and _that's justice_ floating around.

"Near your home?" Julio asked as everyone quieted. "That's why they wanted to know if I stuck around. They think one of us did it?"

"No, but they need to be sure we didn't before we're allowed to investigate," I explained.

Andy was especially quiet and I caught his eye from across the room, and found him with a serious expression on his face. Contemplative and grave might describe it better. It makes me wonder how his interview went.

"Since we're still not allowed to investigate, let's break for lunch," I suggested. "Maybe by the time we get back, Wright will give us the green light, and we can get up to speed."

Five minutes later, the room was empty, except for me and Andy. Each detective had stopped by me on their way out, expressing relief for Rusty and assuring me that their interviews went well. Well, all but the one remaining detective.

"What about you?" I asked as I approached Andy, where he still sat at his desk.

"It was okay. I had Elliott," he answered. "He's good. You trained him well."

"But?"

"Let's go to lunch," he said, ignoring my question as he got up and pulled on his jacket. "We might miss dinner, if we don't get cleared until this afternoon."

His point is valid, but his mood is still way off, and I really want to know what was said in that interview room, but I'm not going to push him. I owe him a little bit of patience.

We went down to his car and we rode in silence, all the way until he parked along a side street, around the corner from the Thai restaurant he likes, and then he shut off the engine, but didn't get out. I waited as he fiddled with the keys for a moment and then he finally turned, bringing his eyes to mine and the passion in them made me catch my breath.

"I'm glad he's dead, Sharon. I can't lie about that."

"No one's asking you to lie about anything."

"I know, but…Elliott told me a few details. About the scene."

_So Andy got details while I got accused of sleeping with Julio_, I mused. I might've made a joke about that if his expression weren't so serious.

"Okay," I said, quietly encouraging him to continue.

He reached out and touched my cheek, and just like earlier in the car, the light graze of his fingertips on my skin was like a jolt of electricity.

"He was coming for you, Sharon."

"Stroh? We kind of expected…"

"No, I mean he was coming for _you_. Their theory is that he was going to let Rusty be witness to one last crime before he killed him."

"What do you mean?" I asked, even though I was starting to get the idea.

"There was a duffle bag at the scene. His kit," he said gruffly, his voice rough in contrast to his gentle touch on my cheek. "A nine mil. Zip ties. Duct tape. Condoms."

As the meaning of his words sunk in, my heart began thundering loudly, adrenaline and fear over the attack that Stroh had planned for us.

"How am I supposed to care about catching his killer?" he continued. "Whoever pulled the trigger has my eternal gratitude. Because if anything had happened to you…to either of you…"

I took a deep, cleansing breath and reminded myself that Stroh's dead and the threat is gone, and it won't do any of us any good to ponder over what could've happened under different circumstances.

"But it didn't," I said gently, reaching up to take his hand, pulling it down into my lap as I leaned over and pressed a kiss against his cheek.

Funny how natural it feels already, being close with him, being affectionate. I could feel some of the tension leave his body, and I squeezed his hand lightly as I pulled back for just a second, and then I kissed him again. Still on the cheek, but slightly closer to his lips. Slightly more bold, and slightly less chaste.

As I eased back in the seat, still holding his hand, he exhaled as he nodded his head in acceptance, acknowledging my unspoken point that no good comes from exploring the path of _what if_.

He glanced down at our joined hands and then visibly relaxed even further as he looked back up at me and said, "I have GSR on my hand from the range yesterday. And I was home alone. I have no alibi."

"We were on the phone," I reminded him. "Cell records will prove it."

"That we talked for more than two hours, well past midnight? That's going to prove more than just an alibi," he said finally giving me a little smile.

I can't make myself worry about it. Andy didn't kill Stroh. Anyone who knows him knows that. And Elliott is good, like Andy said. He'll work the evidence. This'll be over before it ever gains momentum. Or any more momentum, at least.

"Wright asked me if Julio and I are lovers," I said with amusement, hoping to pull an even bigger smile from him.

It worked.

"Is there something you need to tell me, Captain?" he responded playfully, shifting in his seat so that he was leaning closer to me.

"No. I _was_ afraid he was going to ask me about you, though, especially after that look he gave us when we first arrived."

"Hmm," he said quietly, and then it was his turn to kiss me on the cheek, but suddenly that's just not enough. Even though the softness of his lips on my skin feels so good, I want more.

"What would you have said? About us being lovers?" he asked, his breath brushing across my skin so that I could feel the words as much as hear them.

I waited until he pulled back slightly, enough so that I could look him in the eye, and he's letting me see it again, that full force of his emotions, the adoration and reverence, and my insides are smoldering and my head feels hazy, and I don't know why I fought this feeling for so long because it feels_ good_ to be sitting here with him, to share with him, to touch him.

And I just have to kiss him.

I've already had the thought twice today, but I suppose the third time's a charm.

And I know, we're still not out of the woods with IA, and it might get worse before it gets better, but that doesn't change how I feel and isn't that what Rusty taught me this week? To live life.

I moved in slowly, deliberately, the insecure side of me wanting him to have one last chance to bail, but he didn't budge, and when our lips were a fraction of an inch apart, I finally answered his question.

"I would've said _not yet_."

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Andy POV**

* * *

I wish it had been me.

I think I would've gotten a great deal of satisfaction from being the one who put an end to Stroh's life.

And that probably sounds bad, but the guy is one of the worst we've ever seen.

When Elliott told me what they found at the scene, in the bag next to Stroh's body, I thought I was going to throw up all over the table. That's what happens when I have crime scene photos memorized down to every last detail - the image of Sharon being the one in those photos, of having those God awful things done to her, it just jumped into my mind and I couldn't stop it.

_"Hey, Flynn, you okay?"_ Elliott asked me. _ "You're white as a ghost."_

_"It's nothing,"_ I deflected, swallowing hard and willing my stomach not to revolt.

_"I know,"_ he commiserated. _ "She was my captain, too. It's tough to think about."_

I nodded, but couldn't say anything more, and fortunately our interview was largely done at that point, so words weren't necessary. Or at least, not ones that required any thought.

_"Are you willing to do a GSR test?_" he asked.

_"Yeah, but I was at the range yesterday, so it'll be positive."_

_"And last night…you were home by nine-thirty? Alone?" _

He raised an eyebrow as he asked the question, and it looked like he wanted me to make a joke, just so that we could both stop thinking about what Stroh wanted to do to Sharon, but I couldn't.

_"Yeah,"_ I answered.

_"Okay, it's fine. Don't worry about it, Flynn. Wright's just being a blowhard to make his bones, you know what I'm saying? We'll all hand over our notes and he'll feel like he flexed his muscle, and it'll all be done."_

I nodded again, and then sat quietly while the tech came in to administer the test, and then I joined my colleagues back in the murder room.

Sharon was still in with Wright, and I could see her through the open blinds, but the current image kept intermingling with the one in my head, and it was really messing with me.

_I could've lost her,_ I though with desperation. Before I even really had her. Before I kissed her. Before I said I love you. Before we had a chance at some kind of life together.

_"Hey, Flynn," _Provenza called out to me. _"Do you know what this is all about? Because I don't know about you, but wasting my Saturday morning with Internal Affairs is a complete crock. We could be tracking down Stroh right now."_

I didn't correct him, but instead looked back towards the conference room, and I saw Sharon getting up to leave.

_"Flynn,"_ Provenza said again, this time more sharply, so I forced my gaze over to him, and I said, "_Let's wait for the captain."_

That was nearly half an hour ago, and now she and I are in the car together, parked outside the restaurant where we're supposed to be eating lunch.

But I'm not hungry. Not for food, anyway. All I really want is more time with her. Because she's sitting there looking so utterly beautiful, and even though she's eased my mind - reminding me that we can't dwell on what might have happened, but only what _did_ happen and what happened is that Stroh's dead - I still feel a sense of urgency, like we've been wasting so much time not talking about us, and not being honest with ourselves. Because I know she likes me. She has to, or she wouldn't be sitting next to me, looking like she looks, holding my hand in hers and kissing my cheek.

And the feel of her lips just does something to me…

"Wright asked me if Julio and I are lovers," she said, catching me by surprise, mostly because of the easy way the evocative word rolled off her tongue, and the slight challenge in her eyes, like she wants me to say _something_, so I offered the requisite jealous tease, and then barely heard her response, because I suddenly couldn't think of anything but kissing her.

Innocently, of course, because that's where we are at the moment, and I'm okay with that. For now, anyway. Because I know that she's struggling with her feelings for me, with the idea of us being together, but trust me, my lips on her cheek is an enjoyable experience in its own right.

So after I kissed her, I stayed close, breathing in the arousing scent of her, and then I asked, "What would you have said? About us being lovers?"

Even saying the words in the hypothetical had me ready to explode, because now, thankfully, _that's_ the image in my head.

I've thought about us so much, wanted to be closer to her, wanted to have a more demonstrative, affectionate relationship…

I pulled back a little, needing to look into her eyes, and when I did, it hit me that maybe she's right there with me, maybe she wants those things, too.

And as she leaned in with the clear intent of kissing me, I sat frozen, afraid to move because I didn't want to do anything that might scare her off or make her change her mind, and all I could think was that if one of our cell phones rings at this particular moment, it's going to end up a crumpled pile of plastic underneath my shoe.

"I would've said not yet_," _she said softly, her lips almost against mine, and my brain was clouded, but not so much so that I didn't get the importance of her words, the _yet_ that changes everything.

It was all I could do to stay still until she bridged that last tiny bit of distance, finally pressing her lips against mine, so tentatively and sweet that it was making my head swim. After not nearly long enough, she pulled back, and I quickly looked at her face for any hint of disappointment or regret, but her eyes were still focused on my mouth, and then a split second later, she moved in again, only this time all signs of hesitancy were gone. It was impassioned and heated, just like I imagined it would be, and I let go of her hand so that I could slide my fingers into her hair, and I wanted to be closer, to not be in the car, but then she made this little sound in the back of her throat and her hand settled on my thigh, squeezing it slightly as she leaned in even more, taking the kiss to the next level, and that was the end of all rational thought process.

It was complete sensory overload.

This one lasted much, much longer, but it still ended too soon for my liking, although I _am_ thinking that maybe I should've taken my blood pressure meds this morning.

"So," I began uneasily, very aware of the fact that my fingers are still in her hair and her hand is still on my leg, and we're still pleasurably close. "Does this mean we're dating?"

She quirked an eyebrow at me, and I explained, "Because if this is what I do with my friends now, then I'm giving Provenza the boot."

Her laughter filled the car, and I just sat and smiled, watching her amusement and thinking how incredibly beautiful she is, and how I can't believe what just happened.

As long as I've wanted this, I still always had that niggling cynic in the back of my mind that said it was never going to happen.

In fact, I'm still doubting myself because maybe she's just on a high from learning about Stroh's death, or maybe she was just trying to console me, since I was so upset over the knowledge of what might've happened to her.

And of course, I know I'm being pessimistic, but it's just so hard to grasp, that after so much time, someone as great as her might actually want someone like me.

And not just someone like me.

_Me. _

"Yes," she answered softly, putting an end to my insecure speculation. "But do we have to call it that?"

"Honey, we can call it anything you want," I agreed quickly, and she smiled at me as she moved her hand up to my mouth, where for a moment she used her thumb to smudge off remnants of her lipstick, but then I took hold of her wrist, holding onto her gently as I said, "You should wait and do that later."

She raised her eyebrow again, a smile playing on her lips, and I leaned over, kissing her on the cheek again, back near her ear, but then I continued moving my lips across her skin, getting closer and closer to her mouth, as I explained, " Because I'm not done yet."

I'll admit it. I could happily sit in the car and kiss her all day. All night. For the rest of my life.

But we're still new at this, and it's probably a good idea to let our minds catch up with our urges, so we spent several more wonderful minutes enjoying each other, and then we got out of the car so that we could go inside and have lunch.

"I've been thinking about Stroh," she said, once we were seated and had placed our order.

"Don't," I said solemnly, those crime scene photos trying to work their way back into my mind.

I reached over and covered her hand with mine, and I can't describe the pleasure I felt when she turned hers over, lacing her fingers through mine, and how comfortable she looked with the gesture.

"I mean, thinking about who could've killed him," she clarified. "You said he had a gun in his bag, right?"

"Yes," I answered, silently reminding myself _she's safe_.

"So someone took him by surprise. Otherwise, why didn't he get it out?" she posed, and her tone is back to being the captain, and I realized that we can actually do this. We can sit here holding hands and have a work discussion.

_Probably because we spent so many months working on our friendship_, I decided. The relationship we cultivated up to this point is going to make the transition into intimacy so much easier.

"Or it was someone he knew," I suggested, relaxing again and getting into the discussion.

"Right," she agreed as she flashed me a smile. "We also have to consider who knew where he'd be."

"Police," I acknowledged. "Anyone with access to the manhunt information. The reported sightings weren't kept a secret."

"I can understand why Wright is dotting his I's," she mused.

"He's an ass."

"Well, yes, but he's not entirely wrong to look at us."

I rolled my eyes, even though I know she's right, and then we both fell silent as the waiter brought our food. Talking about Stroh isn't going to do much for my appetite, so once we were alone again, I squeezed her hand briefly and teased, "So, you and Julio, huh?"

She snorted a laugh, shaking her head at me as she picked up her fork.

"I was about to give Wright a piece of my mine, making an accusation like that."

"You didn't? Now _that_ surprises me."

"Well, I…no. I mean, I couldn't. That would've been rather hypocritical, don't you think?"

We're venturing into that no man's land again, the place where she uses words like _lover _and equates it to me…the place where we hold hands over lunch, and we kiss in my car.

I like no man's land.

A lot.

But it's completely unchartered territory, and I don't know how to respond, how to put the _least_ amount of pressure on her.

"It's still a personal question," I replied, deciding to keep it in the abstract. "And none of his business."

"He's working on motive," she said reasonably. "We've had to ask the hard questions before, you know how it goes."

I nodded thoughtfully, and we both went back to eating, and then I had an idea.

"Hey, Stroh used to use a partner, right? I mean, at one time he did."

"Yes," she said, sitting up a little straighter, and looking at me in that way of hers, the one that says she's right there with me. "Do you think he could know anyone after so much time behind bars? I mean, someone he would hook up with so quickly."

"Recently released felons…former clients…" I ticked off, and then I said, "His escape was seamless. Maybe he had help."

"We need to get Wright off our back," she said firmly. "We need to find this guy."

"I have to say it again. Do we really care who killed him?"

"We're the police," she answered simply. "It's our job to care."

I get what she means, but still…

"And what if it _was_ a partner who killed him?" she added. "What's he doing now, and who is_ he_ planning to hurt next?"

I sighed heavily as I sat back in my chair, and said, "I really hate when you're right."

"You do not," she said in amusement, smiling smugly. "Because then you'd be filled with hate twenty-four seven."

"How do you know I'm not?" I teased.

"Because I know you," she answered, her tone suddenly serious and her green eyes locked on mine, and she's just so gorgeous that I can't look away, and I can hear her words from earlier in my head, her sultry _not yet_, and once again, I find it hard to believe that this is where we are.

It makes me want to snatch her up and take her home, take her to bed before she changes her mind.

_One day soon, maybe._

"Yes, you do," I agreed, liking her acknowledgement of that, because it's true, she probably knows me better than just about anyone.

And I know her, too.

Not as much as I'd like, but so much more than I once did, and I'm excited about uncovering everything little detail about her.

We kept the conversation light for the rest of lunch - no Stroh, and no us - and then we went back to the office.

In what seems to be our habit now, we paused just outside the door of Major Crimes. She put her hand on my arm and said quietly, "Lunch was nice. Thank you."

"We're going to be doing this a lot," I answered with a smile. "You don't have to thank me every time."

"Hmm," she mused. "Maybe not. But next time, I'm buying, okay?"

"We'll see."

"And I know I don't need to say it, but this…"

She trailed off and moved her hand, gesturing easily between us.

"Is a secret," I finished. "I know."

"Just until I put it in writing, for Taylor," she explained. "But I think we should give it some time first, don't you think?"

I can tell she thinks I'm going to be upset about waiting to disclose, but I'm not. Honestly, I'm just still amazed that it's happening at all, and that she's clearly already thought about whether or not to tell Taylor yet.

"To work out the kinks before going under a microscope?" I teased, wanting to ease her worry.

"Are there going to be kinks?" she asked playfully. "How hard can it be? I'm always right, so as long as you just do what I say…"

She smiled broadly, and God, it just hit me like a ton of bricks how much I love her. And I don't care who knows about us, everyone or no one, as long as there _is _an us.

"Do as you say," I repeated thoughtfully. Then I shook my head and said, "Yeah, there's gonna be kinks."

She chuckled, and then took a step back from me, straightening her jacket as she tipped her head towards the door, so I pulled it open and then stepped aside as she entered ahead of me.

And apparently we're back in the lion's den, because Wright was standing at the front of the room, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. It looks like we're the last ones back from lunch, and judging from the look on Provenza's face, Wright's continuing with his ass persona.

"Captain, I was starting to wonder if you'd gone AWOL," Wright said when he turned towards us, and then like he did this morning, he spent an extra few moments looking purposefully back and forth between us.

"He's probably started the paperwork to put a want out on you," my partner grumbled, causing Tao and Sanchez to snicker.

"I'm not the enemy, detectives," Wright stated after finally tearing his scrutinizing gaze away from us. "I'm just doing my job."

The words rang true as something Sharon would've said in the not so distant past, and for a second, I felt bad for him. It can't be easy, doing that job. I know Sharon spent quite a few years being light on friends because no one in the department wanted anything to do with her, and no one _outside _the department understands the demands of the job.

But Wright isn't Sharon. And he's enjoying his little power play way too much, as was proven by his next statement.

"Unfortunately, I can't clear your division yet," he said with flourish. "While a few of you have alibis that checked out, in my opinion, that's not enough to be able to definitively say that none of you were involved, and I can't have part of the squad working a case which could involve the other part of the squad, so…none of you is to be involved. Give me a few more days and I may change my mind, but as of now, that's the way it is."

"Captain, that's completely unacceptable," Sharon said angrily as she moved towards him. "This investigation was supposed to be a simple matter of protocol. There's no evidence to suggest that any of my detectives had anything to do with this, and yet you're making them all guilty until proven innocent."

"Your opinion is noted. And completely irrelevant," Wright said conceitedly, and that was going to be his parting shot, I believe, but the sound of the door opening and closing caught everyone's attention.

"Chief Taylor," Wright greeted, his entire demeanor changing. "You're back."

"I am," he acknowledged as he looked around the room in question. "I assume you're here to sign off on Major Crimes."

"Actually," Wright began, but Sharon interrupted him.

"He's doing the opposite," she said. "Because a couple of detectives live alone and have no one to verify their whereabouts last night, suddenly we're all guilty."

"Chief, I'm doing this by the book," Wright argued.

"I'd like to see this book," Sharon retorted. "Because I like to think I'm pretty familiar with the rules and regulations of the LAPD and nowhere in there does it state that an entire division is pulled from duty simply because a suspect they were searching for turns up dead!"

"The entire division?" Taylor questioned, looking at Wright. "Why?"

"Sir, Lieutenant Flynn has a jacket several inches thick, and most of the violations in there are for excessive use of force. And he can't account for his time after nine-thirty last night."

I opened my mouth to say something, the likes of which would probably make that jacket just a little bit thicker, but Sharon caught my eye and subtly shook her head.

_Let me handle it_, was her silent directive.

"Yes, and thank you for sharing that confidential information in front of the squad," Sharon admonished. "Maybe you need to go back and read that book again, the section on privacy of personal files."

"It can't possibly be a secret," Wright said defensively, although I liked that he seemed to deflate a little. Temporarily, at least. After a moment, he started on Julio.

"Detective Sanchez is fresh off a suspension for beating a suspect. And he was known to be in the vicinity of the murder last night."

"I was there to protect my captain, sir," Sanchez spoke up. "It's called loyalty."

Sharon held up a hand to him, to quiet him down, and I don't blame her, because his argument isn't helping his case. Personally, I have a deep appreciation for his loyalty, but it might be construed as motive.

"Chief," Sharon said, and I don't know if anyone else can tell, but her voice is laced with forced calm, and I have a feeling that if Wright spouts out one more thing, he's going to get the verbal beat-down of his life. I'm actually surprised that this is all unfolding in front of everyone. Pope would've pulled Sharon and Wright into his office. Taylor has less couth, but I have to admit that the guy has grown on me. I think Sharon has won him over, and he's been throwing more of his support into our squad.

"Hang on, Captain," Taylor said, stopping her before she could get any further, and then he looked at Wright and said, "If you need a little more time to document Sanchez and Flynn's innocence, fine. They can still work the case, but only from the office, where their movements will be on record. The rest of the squad can get started."

"With all due respect, Chief, you aren't allowed to dictate the direction of an Internal Affairs investigation," Wright said crossly.

"And _you_ have no authority to order my detectives to stand down," Taylor fired back. "Keeping them off the case while you discussed a timeline with everyone was my idea. One I'm starting to regret. So you do your little investigation, Captain. And Major Crimes is going to do theirs."

See what I mean about Taylor? He has his moments.

It took Wright a minute to gather his composure, but then he turned around and looked at me first, and then Julio, as he said, "Make yourselves available to me. I'm sure I'll have more questions once the time of death is established."

Then he pinned Sharon with a glare before nodding at Chief Taylor and leaving the room.

"Okay, who hired that guy?" Provenza asked.

"Not me," Taylor mumbled. "But I don't want this getting blown out of proportion any more than it already has, so Andy, Julio - you're benched for the afternoon. Captain, the body has already been sent to the morgue, and I believe Morales was getting started on it. SID logged in the evidence, and the scene is still roped off, so go find the killer before Wright decides it's one of our own."

Taylor left, and once he was gone, Sanchez said, "This is crap, ma'am. If I'd killed Stroh, I would've called it in myself. Been pretty happy about it, too."

"That's what I said," I agreed heartily.

"There's plenty of work the two of you can do from here," she said. "We know that Stroh didn't have any visitors while he was in jail, but let's find out who he helped, from a legal standpoint, and see if any of them are out of prison. Let's look at his clients from beforehand, too."

Then she took a moment to bring everyone up to speed about the duffle bag, and I realized that hearing it the second time around isn't any easier.

"So you think he was working with a partner," Amy stated.

"That's one theory, yes."

"Makes sense," Mike agreed. "We know he did it before, and if his plan was to attack two people at once, one of whom is a police captain…he had to know that would require a little back up."

"You have another theory?" Provenza asked.

"Wright said the weapon used is police issue," she answered. "It's something we have to consider, at least until the ballistics come back and we can get a better handle on it."

"Do you want me to get with Robbery Homicide and get their footage of the scene?" Buzz offered. He'd been lumped in along with the rest of us, as far as being banned from the scene, even though he doesn't carry a weapon.

"Yes, thank you, Buzz. Lieutenant Provenza, if you'll come with me to the morgue, please, and Mike and Amy, I'd like the two of you to head out to the scene. I know it's hours-old at this point, but I'll feel better knowing we've looked at it first-hand."

As everyone milled around in preparation to follow through with their assignments, I moved over to my desk and sat down heavily, catching Julio's eye as he did the same.

_This sucks_, was the mutual sentiment.

"This is temporary," Sharon said quietly, having come up behind me, her hand resting lightly on my shoulder, and she instantly calmed my mood.

"I know. It's fine."

"Good," she said, squeezing gently before removing her hand and stepping away towards where Provenza was waiting, near the door.

It was four hours later before they returned.

During that time, Julio and I had compiled a list of names, people to follow up on in regards to their relationship with Stroh.

As we went over the list with everyone, Sharon started writing on the board, taking notes of what we discovered.

"You're going to need a bigger board, if you're going to list out everyone who wanted to see Stroh dead," Provenza remarked.

"No, but see that's the thing," Sharon said, turning to look at us. "Other than us, how many people knew what a despicable person he was? He was a professional when it came time to hiding his true self. Someone on the street wouldn't think of him as a sociopath until they became his victim, and at that point…"

"Too late for revenge," I finished.

She nodded as she caught my eye, and I'm wondering how it went with her, seeing him on the table in the morgue, but that's a personal question that'll have to wait.

"Buzz, what about the video?" she asked.

"They didn't mark the casings," he said with irritation. "And he didn't pan out for perspective. _Or_ get a shot of the crowd. What was he thinking?"

I smirked as Buzz continued muttering to himself about the ineptitude of Robbery Homicide's videographer, and then the focus shifted to Tao and Sykes, who were back from the crime scene.

"We found gloves," Mike announced, holding up an evidence bag. "In a dumpster around the corner from the scene. Check it out. Blowback."

Gloves which make the GSR tests Wright did this morning a waste of time.

"Stroh had five shots to the chest, point blank, each of them lethal. It was violent," Sharon remarked.

"Close range is why the gloves were covered in blood," Amy said with a nod. "We'll send them to the lab, but I don't know if they'll be able to get any prints from them or not."

"DNA, maybe," I said.

"It's possible," Sharon agreed. "Time of death is between eleven-thirty and twelve-thirty. Julio, what time did you leave my parking garage?"

"I went straight down and pulled out, ma'am. So ten-thirty, I think. I drove around the block a few times, and then I went home."

"Buzz, can you pull traffic cam footage between my home and Julio's? I'd like to get a picture of him, somewhere other than in my neighborhood."

And I get what's worrying her.

The overkill on Stroh shows aggression and an inability to control rage, words that are surely quite prominent in Julio's file.

We spent another couple of hours working the case, without making much progress. Ballistics came back showing a Glock 19, which is a nine mil. And yes, it's one of the weapons authorized to be carried by members of the LAPD, but that doesn't mean no one else can buy one.

"Isn't that what Stroh had in his bag?" I asked as Sharon wrote the information on the board. "A Glock?"

"It is," she agreed. "You think he was killed with his own gun?"

"It would solve the problem the killer might have of finding a gun not tied to him."

"You think Robbery Homicide requested to have that gun tested?" Provenza speculated.

"I doubt it," I said as I picked up the phone. "But I'll get 'em on it."

I quickly put in the request, and when I hung up, it was after six, and considering it's a Saturday, Sharon said it was time to go home.

"We're already playing catch up, so it won't hurt us to get a good night's sleep, and then get back on it fresh, in the morning."

Her words were music to my ears. We've all spent too much time thinking about Stroh today, and on top of that, I don't want to miss out on our dinner date. Especially not after how well lunch went.

Sharon went into her office, after telling us to go home, so I lingered for a minute and then went to her doorway.

"Still want to go out?" I asked quietly.

"Yes," she answered, smiling at me as she put down her phone and then reached for her jacket. "I was just texting with Rusty. Seems he's met up with a few friends, and they're going to take in a movie, so I was thinking, how about we stay in? I can cook something. Or we can grab something on the way home."

"Tired?" I asked, having a good idea that was why she wanted to stay in. I mean, I'd like to think it's because she wants us to have complete privacy, but it's much more likely that her week of little sleep has caught up to her.

"Yes," she admitted. She pulled her hair from beneath her collar and then grabbed her phone from the desk and shoved it into her pocket.

"We can postpone," I offered. "If you want. I mean, if you're tired."

She stopped gathering her things and turned back towards me, her glance going to the window, to the murder room beyond, for a brief moment before returning to mine, and then she took a step closer to me.

"I don't want to postpone. I want to go home and relax. With you."

Twenty minutes later, we were in her parking garage, me one level away from her, since I had to find a visitor's spot. And as nice as it is not to have to worry about her safety, I still walked briskly to her car.

"Let's just call for something," I suggested as I took her hand and we began walking toward the lobby doors. "I don't want you to have to cook. You need to get out of those shoes, and get a glass of wine, and get comfortable on the couch."

"There's no way I'm going to argue with that," she said, sighing as she leaned into me. "It's been such a long week."

"And yet you picked now to make such a big decision," I ventured, because I can't help it. I'm still amazed that today was the day for us to turn the corner.

"Well, apparently it's been going on for a long time, and I'm just too blind to see it," she replied. I reached out and pushed the door open, holding it as she ducked under my arm and entered the lobby ahead of me. "Rusty actually suggested that it would take you writing it in big bold letters on the murder board."

She chuckled a little as she pushed the button for the elevator, and I walked over to her, wrapping my arms around her from behind.

It didn't occur to me until I had her pulled snugly against me that we've never hugged before. Not a real one, at least. Quick ones, with plenty of space between us, maybe, but nothing so intimate as what we're doing now, and I might have panicked about overstepping but she was relaxed in my arms, so I leaned down and nuzzled my lips against the side of her neck as I teased, "What, something like Andy plus Sharon?"

She laughed some more, and tilted her head to the side, encouraging me to continue kissing her throat, and then the elevator doors opened, and even though my focus was on her, she must have been looking into the elevator because she suddenly stiffened and stepped out of my embrace.

I looked up to see Captain Wright standing in the elevator.

_What the hell?_

"What on earth are you doing here?" Sharon asked him, her voice shaking, likely from getting caught with _me_, but also due to anger over the unwelcome intrusion of work into her home life.

Wright didn't answer, though. He just stood there smiling, clearly immensely pleased over what he just witnessed, and then he said, "You know, I asked about Detective Sanchez, but I guess I was barking up the wrong detective."

"Hey, pal, " I began, making a move towards him that caused him to back up into the wall of the elevator. Sharon quietly said my name, so I stopped before putting my hands on him, although I was only going to_ politely _show him the way out.

Wright eased out of the elevator, staying as far away from me as he could, and once he was in the hall, he regained a little of his bravado as he shook his head condescendingly at Sharon and said, "Captain, I can't tell you how disappointed I am to find out you're just another clichéd woman in power, sleeping her way through her staff."

Then he glanced at me and added, "You want to rethink that alibi, Lieutenant? Or did you just hand me your motive on a silver platter?"

**TBC...**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** The reviews! My God, the reviews! You guys are so amazing - you've completely flooded my inbox with wonderful reviews. Of all the multi-chapter stories I've written (30, I think), this one has the highest review-to-chapter ratio - THANK YOU SO MUCH!

* * *

**Sharon POV**

* * *

I'm almost surprised I didn't get whiplash from the abruptness with which I went from being delightfully aroused to furiously outraged.

One second we were standing there, waiting for the elevator, and Andy's arms were around me, holding me securely against his warm, solid body, while his lips teased along the side of my neck, and in that moment, I suddenly forgot about being tired, and my plan was to go upstairs and bypass dinner and all other pleasantries in favor of going straight to the bedroom.

Because I want him. Really, really want him.

And maybe it took me awhile to come to terms with that fact, but now that I'm comfortable with it, I don't see any need for delaying the inevitable.

But then the elevator doors opened, and there was Wright.

His initial expression was odd…almost cheerful, like he was a little too happy to see me, but as his gaze shifted to Andy, and the realization of what he was seeing set in, his face clouded over with…I don't know what. Resentment, maybe. And then pleasure again, only by that point, it was bitter pleasure.

I don't know what to make of him, and I can't imagine why he showed up here. He never did tell us the purpose of his visit.

He made the remark suggesting that Andy's presence with me gives him motive for killing Stroh and then Andy started to fire off at him, but I interrupted him, telling him not to say anything, mostly because I was sure there would be a threat in there, and Andy doesn't need more trouble with IA.

"_Your girlfriend's right, Lieutenant. You have the right to remain silent, and you should probably use it_," Wright retorted smartly, then he shook his head at me, the condescension obvious as he let his eyes walk over me from head to toe before saying, "_We'll finish this discussion tomorrow, Captain."_

_"We should've started it tomorrow, too,_" I snapped hotly. "_You call me, or come to my office, but you don't come to my home, are we clear?" _

_"I get it, no problem. Home is reserved for the detectives you're screwing,_" he imparted just as he slipped out the door, and I had to grab onto Andy's arm to keep him from going after him.

That was ten minutes ago, and now we're upstairs in my condo, and neither of us has said a word. I'm too mad to talk, and Andy is…well, he's something. I'm not sure what, but he hasn't moved from the spot just inside the door.

"You can come all the way in, Andy," I said, breaking our silence as I forced myself to calm down. Not an easy thing to do, because I'm absolutely livid, but I'm usually pretty good about finding a rational response to unsavory situations, and this time shouldn't be any different.

"Are you sure you want me to?" he asked, his hesitancy catching me by surprise. Again, it's that inkling of insecurity that's unexpected. He's usually so sure of himself, but now, in my entryway, he seems uncomfortable and out of place.

"I invited you, didn't I?" I reminded him.

Because I did. Twice. Earlier, in my office, and then again, in the lobby, just after Wright left. Andy looked ready to explode, and I felt like cursing a blue streak, and we each shut down, choosing silence over uncontrollable outburst. I turned on my heel and a heated_ damn it _slipped from my lips as I marched back to the elevator.

_"Should I…"_ he began, gesturing towards the door that leads to the parking garage.

_"Come up,"_ I finished.

He got onto the elevator with me without a word.

And now I'm having to remind him again that I want him here.

Because if we're going to do this, this _us_, we have to learn to deal with unpleasant situations, too, and this certainly classifies as such. He can stew about Wright if he wants to, but that doesn't mean I want him to do it alone. We'll stew together.

"Andy. I want you here," I clarified purposefully.

He stayed still for another moment, and then shrugged and followed me into the kitchen. I filled the kettle and put it on the stove, and then leaned back against the counter and sighed.

This is _not_ how I thought this evening would go.

"You need to call Taylor," Andy said quietly.

"You'd better believe I'm going to call him. I don't know what Wright's game plan is, but coming to my home on a Saturday night? Then flat-out accusing you of killing Stroh? I mean, he's grasping for some reason, but I have no idea why. It's like he has a grudge against you or something. Although he has Julio in his sights, too, so…honestly, I don't know, but…"

"Sharon, I mean about us," he interrupted.

"Oh. Well, yes," I agreed.

"Exactly what you _didn't_ want. To go under the microscope," he said with frustration, and I finally realized that he's more upset about that than about being accused of murder. Or maybe he even thinks that I'm upset with _him _about it. Maybe that's why he was reluctant to come inside. He expected me to push him away.

He moved over to the table and pulled out one of the chairs, and then shrugged out of his jacket before sitting down roughly.

"Maybe you can talk your way out of it," he suggested, his gaze settled on the table instead of me. "You know, say that Wright misinterpreted the situation, and…"

My laughter interrupted his words, and he quickly looked up at me, and it's funny how as much as I was trying to force myself to feel calm and rational before, now that we're_ talking_, I suddenly actually feel it.

That's not to say I'm not angry at Wright, but why should I let him ruin our evening?

"Misinterpreted?" I asked as I walked towards him, needing to reassure him that _we're_ okay. "Andy, you had your arms around me. You were kissing me. I can't think of an innocent explanation for that, can you?"

I reached out and ran my fingers through his hair briefly before settling my palm against his cheek.

"Besides, I don't need to make excuses for my personal life," I continued.

"You aren't upset about this?" he questioned. "Because you know Wright's going to tell him, first chance he gets. He probably called him already."

Andy's probably right about that. I can picture that little weasel pulling out his cell phone as soon as he was in his car. In fact, my first thought, once he was out the door, was to get on the phone with Taylor myself. But then I decided that I'm not doing anything wrong. And rushing to call him, to try to get in _my side_ of the story before Wright…that would make it seem like I'm guilty of something.

"Oh, I'm upset," I answered. "Our quiet evening at home was almost derailed. And Wright has an ulterior motive about something on this Stroh investigation."

I brought my other hand up to his cheek, holding his face in my hands as I locked my gaze on his, making sure he was listening as I said the next words.

"But telling Taylor about me and you…that doesn't bother me. It was only a matter of time, anyway, because I'm not entering into this lightly. Are you?"

"No," he said softly, and I can finally feel him relax, so I touched my lips to his, and my intention was only to punctuate my statement, but then I decided that we're here, alone, and that fluttering feeling has already come back again, the one I had when we were outside the elevator the first time, when he was kissing my neck, so I put a little more effort into it, loving how he responded immediately, settling his hands on my waist to keep me close.

We let it go on until the kettle began to whistle, and then I slowly stepped back.

"We had a plan for tonight, right? Order in, relax on the couch…" I reminded him, smiling as I turned away and headed for the stove.

As I turned off the heat and moved the kettle, Andy's arms enclosed around me from behind, like he did earlier in the lobby. He's so expressive and affectionate, and I like that we're able to move each other past our bad moods.

"Wright wasn't part of our plan," he said, and in spite of the topic, his tone is light and his lips find their way to my ear. "What was he doing here, anyway?"

"The only thing I can think of is that he has some kind of new evidence," I suggested, fixing our tea while he continued his gentle assault, and I'm starting to think that this night is going to turn out pretty good after all.

Of course, I do still need to call Taylor, but that won't take long.

"Want me to check with Elliott?" Andy suggested. "I think his loyalties still lie with you."

"Not a bad idea," I agreed. "Why don't you do that while I take care of Taylor?"

"And I'll order food," he said. "You didn't eat enough for lunch."

"Are you going to start monitoring my caloric intake, Lieutenant?" I asked on a laugh, letting go of the tea cups when he encouraged me to turn in his arms. I faced him, and he's so close and he smells really good, and my insides are on fire, and I have to wonder what's wrong with me that I can be so blasé about this Wright situation when any other time I would've been absolutely infuriated.

"I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself. And if you don't, I'll do it for you," he replied as he let go of me so that he could take hold of my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders so that it slipped down my arms, landing on the floor.

I feel like I need to pick it up, but not just yet because now he's running his fingers back up my arms, tracing along the silk of my blouse until his hands are back on my shoulders, and he's toying with the edges of the collar.

"I'm sorry that Wright saw us," he said with seriousness. "And what he said to you…that's inexcusable."

Astute of Andy to know that remark would bug me. I've made such a point to keep my personal life out of the office all these years, and now, the very first time I attempt to have a relationship with a detective, and it evokes a comment like that, that I'm sleeping my way through the staff.

But I just can't be too upset about that right now. Honestly, if it came from someone I respect, I'd probably be extremely upset, but Wright…I don't even know who he is.

"And I'll behave myself when I see him," Andy continued, his fingers moving into my hair as he stepped a little closer to me, so that I can feel his body against mine. "But I'm not going to forget it. And one of these days, he'll get his."

I felt like I should say something because he doesn't need to get retribution on my behalf, but that's when he brought his lips to mine, and this kiss right here has me going back to my earlier plan…it makes me want to skip everything else and go straight to the bedroom.

And I might have, too. Maybe.

But my phone rang, and we reluctantly broke off the kiss so that I could bend down and retrieve my cell phone from my jacket pocket, and it was Taylor, so after showing the display to Andy, he nodded and stepped away to make his calls while I answered the phone.

"Yes, Chief," I said. "I was just about to call you."

"I'm sure you were," he said, and I can tell by his tone that he knows.

It's not anger or condemnation, but rather amused interest, which I find annoying but expected.

However, what gets me is that Wright truly did call so quickly. He's proven himself to be just as low down and common as we thought.

"So it's true?" Taylor asked me.

"That depends on what he said," I answered.

I glanced across the room at Andy, where he's reading a menu, with the phone to his ear, and for no reason other than just looking at him, that feeling is back. It made it very easy to say what came next.

"But if you're asking if I'm in a relationship with Andy Flynn, then the answer is yes."

"I see."

"But Chief, it's new," I explained. "That's the only reason why I haven't said anything yet. It's _very _new."

"We've worked together long enough that I trust you to follow the guidelines, Captain. But now that it's in the open, we have to deal with it officially. My office. Tomorrow morning at nine."

"Yes, sir. I think you should ask Captain Wright to join us."

"You do?"

"After we've had time to handle our business," I clarified. "But yes. I have a few questions for him, and I think you'll want to hear them."

"Such as?"

"Did you ask how he found out about me and Andy?" I posed, since it's obvious by this point that he didn't.

"He said he bumped into the two of you."

"In my building," I finished. "He came to my home, Chief."

There was silence for an extended moment, and then he said sternly, "I'll have him in my office at nine-fifteen."

"Thank you. I'll see you in the morning."

I hung up with him just as Andy was saying, "Sgt. Elliott, it's Andy Flynn."

He was leaning against the counter now, facing me, with one hand holding his phone and the other hand loosening his tie. I set my cell on the table and walked over to him, taking over the task.

"I was wondering if you guys made any headway, clearing me and Detective Sanchez."

He smiled at me as I went a step further than just loosening the tie, untying it completely and then easing it from around his neck. Once it was off, I reached up and undid the top button on his shirt. I didn't mean for it to seem forward, I just wanted him to be comfortable. To relax.

His eyes darkened as he watched me, and once it was undone, I ran my hand lightly over the area, and I was tempted to undo the next one, too, but I didn't. Instead, I took a step back, and then he pointed at my feet, where I'm still wearing my shoes, so I quickly stepped out of them.

"Did he mention why he was interested in that?" he asked, and then he said, "Because I just spoke with my captain, and she said that Wright showed up at her place…yes, I'm serious. What's that about?"

I went over to the other counter and retrieved our cups of tea, and as I sipped on one, I handed the other one to Andy.

"Are you kidding me with this?" he said suddenly. And then he said, "Yeah, okay. I appreciate it, Elliott."

He hung up and tossed his cell on the counter behind him, and then he took a drink of tea.

"Well?" I prompted.

"He said that Wright went to the lab and to the morgue, following up on our progress. He claimed to be worried that evidence would disappear. He said he was going to call you to ask where they found that glove, since it was missed by Robbery Homicide. He's suspicious that we planted evidence."

"Oh my God," I muttered in irritation.

"Wait, it gets better," he said, and I can tell he's once again tense and trying to rein in his temper. "When I told Elliott that Wright came over here, he was surprised, but not really. He said Wright made several comments about you today. And he asked if you're single."

"So he accuses me of sleeping with Julio, runs roughshod over my squad, and then he thinks he'll just show up at my house, and I'll be happy about it?"

"It explains why he went for the throat when he saw us together."

"Maybe, but it doesn't explain his attitude in the first place. Why is he coming at our division so hard?"

We looked at each other for a moment, both of us trying to come up with a reasonable explanation, but neither had one.

"Come on," I said, reaching for his hand. "You promised me relaxing time on the couch, didn't you?"

He smiled in response and let me lead him into the living room. Again, I'm not sure why I'm not letting this bother me more…Wright came over here because he wanted to hit on me? And he's following up on our investigation, tossing about the suggestion that we're either planting or hiding evidence?

Ordinarily, I'd be on my second or third glass of wine right now, in an effort to calm myself down, but tonight I don't feel like I need it. I'm not going to let this moment with Andy get away from us. It's been too long coming.

"So what did Taylor say?" he asked me, sitting a little further away from me than I was expecting, but then he gestured towards my feet and then patted his lap. I looked at him curiously for a moment, without moving, so then he said, "Give me your feet."

I leaned back against the arm of the sofa as I brought my legs up, straightening my skirt and then resting my feet in his lap, unable to stop the sigh that escaped when he picked up one and began rubbing it.

I can't remember anyone ever doing this for me. Not without me asking, at least. Jack managed a quick massage from time to time but it was always at my request, and it always came with a price.

"Sharon?" he asked, when my eyes fell closed and I still hadn't responded.

"Taylor," I said with a smile, keeping my eyes shut. "Right. Um, he was okay with it."

"Had Wright called him?"

"Yes. You know, his motivation is just…I don't get it," I said, and then I caught myself. "No, I'm not thinking about him anymore tonight. I have a meeting with Taylor in the morning, and we'll get everything sorted out."

"Are you sure this is what you want?" he asked quietly after another minute. My head was buzzing from the blissful contact, and I almost didn't hear him, but when his words registered, I opened my eyes.

"Am I sure I want you?" I clarified.

"People will talk, you know they will. And you've worked so hard for your reputation."

"People always find a reason to talk," I dismissed. "After a while, they'll get bored of it, once they realize it's nothing scandalous, but rather just two people who realized they like spending time together."

He nodded thoughtfully and then went to work on the other foot, and I watched him, taking in his profile, his long, talented fingers, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

"I think maybe it's a good thing that it took us so long to see what was right in front of us," I mused. "It gave us plenty of time to think about what we want, to make sure it was the right decision."

"You shouldn't say _us_," he corrected, now sounding playful. "Because trust me when I say that I've been seeing you, and knowing what I want for quite some time now."

"Okay, so I was the one in denial," I admitted, appreciating the rekindled heat rolling through me. "And you've been so patient. Why is that?"

"Why?" he asked, now sliding his hands up my calves and massaging the muscle there. My eyes want to close again, to focus on the feeling, but I can't look away from him because he's watching me so intently as he formulates his response.

"Well, it's like this. I meet this beautiful woman at work," he begins, his voice low and rumbling. "And we're like oil and water, right? I mean, she drives me absolutely crazy. But I also can't stop thinking about her because she's just got this presence about her, you know? This graceful, intelligent, commanding presence, and when she's in the room, I find that I can't look away. A few years go by, next thing I know, she's my boss. And that's when I start getting to know her, like the real her, and she's just as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside, and I realize that maybe I was the one who was hard to get along with before. And I think if I work at it, maybe I can be the kind of man she might want."

"Andy," I said softly, unable to say anything more than that because I'm feeling overwhelmed by emotion, by everything he's said.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That's probably more than you wanted to hear."

"No," I said quickly, sitting up to meet him, where he was leaning over my legs, and I kissed him enthusiastically, wanting to convey to him how much his open honesty means to me. Knowing what he thinks about me, and that he's thought it for so long…it's humbling and flattering, and I feel a little frustrated that I didn't open my eyes to him sooner. I mean, I did, but I just kept pushing the thought aside, thinking it shouldn't happen.

_But there's nothing wrong with this at all,_ I decided happily as I pulled him closer to me, making him shift his position so that he was practically stretched out over top of me.

Just a couple of not-so-young people making out on the sofa, enjoying each other's company and affection.

And we did exactly that for nearly an hour. Well, the affection part more than the company because there wasn't much talking going on during that hour, but it was so nice, to touch and be touched, and we might've kept on going if the doorbell hadn't rang.

"I forgot about the food," I said with a grin as he moved off of me. He started to get up, but I stopped him, saying, "I'll get it. It's my turn."

I smoothed out my skirt as I got up from the couch, and then adjusted my blouse, making sure all of the buttons were done. It's untucked, but I don't care about that. As I grabbed my wallet from my purse, I caught my reflection in the mirror, and I had to smile again.

_Good thing it's the food and not Rusty_, I thought as I ran my hand through my hair. Because there's no hiding what we've been doing.

But I don't care if the delivery boy knows, so I checked the peephole and then opened the door and took care of the food, tipping him well and sending him on his way.

When I returned to the couch, I found that Andy had gathered utensils and napkins from the kitchen, so we put everything on the coffee table and ate our late-night dinner, and it felt so normal, so natural, the two of us sitting closely and talking as we made our way through rice and vegetables. Once we finished, Andy took the remnants back to the kitchen, and I turned on the television, flipping around until I found an old black and white classic, and then I put the sound down low and turned off the lights.

"Is this my cue, that it's time for me to go home?" he asked me when he came back into the living room, only to find it dark and me heading towards the hall.

I turned to look at him, having forgotten again that he battles with his confidence from time to time. _Where I'm concerned_, I realized. That's the only time I see him unsure.

Maybe because I never really answered him, when he asked if I'm sure.

So I retraced my steps, going back into the living room to where he stood, and I put my hand on his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat beneath my palm.

"I was just going to change," I told him. "But I'm hoping you'll stay. Because I am sure, Andy. I really want to do this with you."

Once the words were out, I realized their suggestion, which wasn't my intent at all. I wasn't talking about sex. I don't know when that might happen, tonight or some other night, but I want him to know my feelings, not just my desires.

"I mean, I want you," I said quickly, but then that wasn't really any better. "I'm talking about a relationship. Us. I want…"

"I get it," he said, chuckling lightly as he covered my hand with his. "Go change, and we'll watch your old Bogart movie, and you can kick me out whenever you're ready to go to bed."

_Or not_, I thought, but I didn't say it. We've already moved things along pretty quickly today, so sleeping on my decision would probably be a good idea.

Ten minutes later, we were back on the couch, and I'm in my yoga pants with a soft knit top, and he's taken off his button-down, so that he's in his t-shirt and slacks, making both of us a lot more comfortable.

He sat on one end and held his arm out, so I sat next to him, tucking my legs beneath me and resting my head against him as his arm settled around me, both of us letting out long breaths as we shifted our focus to the movie.

"Is this the one with the hurricane?" he asked, his voice soft and his lips brushing against the top of my head.

"No, it's the one where he helps the French Resistance."

"Oh. So…no hurricane?" he asked, making me laugh and look up at him.

"In World War II France? No, there's no hurricane."

"Hmm," he responded, pressing his lips to mine for a long, sweet moment.

"You knew that," I accused playfully, enjoying the way he's looking at me with such a warm, caring expression.

"Uh huh," he agreed, and then he kissed me again, only this time it was more…everything. It made me forget about everything else going on in our lives.

When he slowly pulled back, he smiled at me and teased, "Turn around, you're making me miss the movie."

I absolutely love that this is where we are now, and I chastised myself once again for being so slow to get here.

"Andy?" I whispered, keeping my eyes on the screen, but running my fingers across his chest.

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you didn't give up on me."

I felt his lips in my hair again as he murmured, "Not a chance."

The next thing I knew, someone was coming in the door, and I opened my eyes to see Rusty locking up and then turning around and stopping in his tracks.

I'm sure we were the last thing he was expecting to see, snuggled up together on the couch, late on Saturday night. We're being perfectly respectable, though, so I'm not going to be embarrassed by it.

I could feel Andy's steady breathing beneath my hand, and he hasn't stirred at all, so I raised my finger to my lips and then whispered, "How was your night?"

Rusty came over to sit on the coffee table in front of me, and then he smiled and said, "I think I should be the one asking you."

I raised an admonishing eyebrow at him, so then he said, "It was great, actually. I met this guy who's pretty cool. A friend of a friend. Anyway, we're going to the beach tomorrow. I mean, if that's okay."

"Sure. Does this guy have a name? And when do I get to meet him?"

"Uh, let me get back to you on the whole meeting thing, but his name's Kevin," he said, and I like how he's smiling just at the thought of the boy - _man_ \- he likes. "So what happened today? Did Flynn finally get out his magic marker?"

"Goodnight, Rusty," I responded.

He leaned over and kissed my cheek, grinning as he said, "Goodnight, Mom."

And I didn't say it, but I can't help but think it. He's light-hearted and happy again. Life without Stroh in his shadow has made a huge difference after just one day.

Once Rusty was gone, I settled back against Andy, trying to decide if I should wake him up, and if I do, should I send him home or invite him into my bed? But then his arm tightened around me, holding me closer even in sleep, and I figured a few more minutes wouldn't hurt because I'm just so comfortable, so I let my eyes fall closed once again.

"Sharon?"

It took a few seconds before it registered that Andy was saying my name. I opened my eyes to find my head lying in his lap, and the condo flooded with daylight. I'm not sure which aspect was more surprising, that we slept the entire night on the couch, or that during sleep, I settled into a much more intimate position.

But his hand is stroking through my hair, and he doesn't seem bothered by it at all, so I allowed myself another moment to fully wake up before finally sitting up.

"It's seven-thirty," he said, reaching out to push an errant strand of hair back from my face. "You have a meeting with Taylor at nine, right?"

His words got me into motion much quicker than I would've liked, but I couldn't afford to be late for the meeting. Andy had to go home to take a shower, saying he would see me at the office, and after a stirring goodbye kiss, we parted ways, and I hurriedly got ready for work.

I made it to Chief Taylor's office at eight fifty-five.

"I don't like being blind-sided, Captain. Especially by a guy like Wright," he said to me, once I'd closed the door and was seated across from him.

"He's double-checking our work," I said, deciding to ignore his displeasure about my lack of disclosure for the moment. "He seems to think Major Crimes is in the business of planting evidence."

"He wants your job," Taylor stated purposefully.

"He wants what?" I asked in surprise.

"I checked around, after he called me last night. I wanted to get a handle on his motivation for ratting you out. When he interviewed for the Internal Affairs position, he asked what it would take to get Major Crimes. The chief made a joke, telling him an act of God."

I sat back in my chair, shaking my head as Taylor continued.

"I think that's why he's hoping one of your detectives had something to do with the murder."

"He accused me of sleeping with Detective Sanchez yesterday," I said with a nod. "He's just trying to find anything that'll stick. But Chief, he came to my home. Which means he took the information from my file, and used it for personal gain."

"I'll take care of that," he said firmly. "Now this business with you and Flynn."

"I was going to tell you," I stated. "I wasn't exaggerating when I said it's new."

"Sharon," he said with disbelief. "I understand that you wanted to make sure it was going somewhere first, but it's been months, at least."

So it's true. Absolutely everyone saw this thing before I did.

"No, it's…" I began, but he interrupted, sliding a form across the desk.

"I went ahead and filled this out for you. And it's back-dated, so just sign it. I didn't let on to Wright that I didn't know."

I glanced down at the paper, a form for the disclosure of an inter-office relationship, and saw the date listed as August 2.

_Six months ago_.

"Chief," I tried again, feeling like I should really set the record straight, but then I stopped myself, and just signed it.

We _have _been involved in a relationship, even if there wasn't any physical intimacy.

Even if I didn't know it.

Taylor filed the form, and just as he sat back down, Wright knocked on the door.

And as nice as Taylor was to me, he was equally short with Wright.

"I know you're new to the LAPD, and maybe they weren't like this in San Francisco, but here we take our privacy very seriously, so unless you have a warrant or an invitation, you won't go to Captain Raydor's home again, is that understood?"

"Chief, I just wanted to discuss…"

"She has a cell phone," he said sharply. "Next time, use it or I won't stop her if she wants to file a restraining order against you."

"Yes, sir," he answered. When he first arrived, he appeared confident and self-righteous, but after the dressing down, it was my turn to flash him a condescending smile.

"Now you had something to discuss, in regards to the case?" Taylor asked.

"I think Lieutenant Flynn is involved," Wright said without hesitation. "He has clear motive."

"Motive is a stretch," I stated. "Besides…"

"He's obviously in love with you," Wright interjected. "Of course he'd do anything to protect you."

"Check his phone records from Friday night. Check mine," I finished, glad I could finally say it, now that everyone knows, because looking into Andy for this murder is just ridiculous. "We were on the phone during the time of the murder."

"Cell phone?" he responded.

"He lives far enough away to confirm his innocence," Taylor said.

Wright looked over at me skeptically, and then he regrouped, saying, "Detective Sanchez's whereabouts are still in question."

"Buzz was working on that yesterday evening, Chief. He should have something today."

Taylor nodded, and said to Wright, "Anything else?"

Another knock on the door had all three of us looking towards it as Taylor gave permission to enter.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Chief, " Mike said as he poked his head through the doorway, and then he looked at me and said, "Um, Captain? We've found something that I think you need to know."

"About Stroh's killer?" Taylor asked.

Mike looked over at him with uncertainty and then back to me, clearly waiting for me to tell him it's okay to say it. With the way Wright's been acting, I might have been tempted to keep it from him, but since it might expedite the clearing of Andy and Julio's names, I gave Mike a nod.

"Well, you know how Sanchez and Flynn were going through people in jail, who were helped by Stroh?"

I nodded encouragement, wanting him to get to it, so he said, "Well, then we looked at those people more extensively, seeing who they were in contact with, hoping to have something jump out at us, and…well, something did. A guy who just got his conviction overturned was previously acting as trustee at county. That's where he met Stroh, and his appeals were written by Stroh, as confirmed by my language program."

"Lieutenant Tao, if there's a point to this monologue, I'd love for you to get to it," Wright said, rolling his eyes.

"Captain," Taylor chastised, and then he held out his hand towards Mike, moving it in a circular motion, agreeing for him to _get to the point_.

Mike stepped closer to me, ignoring both other men as he finished.

"This guy, Henry Mills, he got out two weeks ago. His original crime involved a Glock 19, so then I checked on his movements, and I found out that he's visited someone in jail. Three times since his release."

"Who?"

He held my gaze for a minute, and I felt my stomach clench as I realized where he was going just before he said it.

"Sharon Beck."

**TBC...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Sharon POV**

* * *

It's amazing, the difference a little time can make.

Barely more than a day.

That's it.

Twenty-seven hours ago, I learned Stroh was dead.

Since then, so much has happened.

Julio and Andy were both accused and then absolved of playing a role in the murder.

Captain Wright divulged to Taylor that Andy and I are in a relationship.

_And _he tried to sabotage my division in an effort to make me look incompetent, so that he could make a play for my job.

Andy and I slept together. In the literal sense only, but I still like thinking it. Besides, spending the night with someone without making love can often be just as intimate.

Rusty quickly re-acclimated to not having to look over his shoulder. And he met someone, someone who makes him smile and act like a perfectly normal college freshman.

And certainly not least of all, we discovered the truth behind the murder of Phillip Stroh.

Earlier today, I excused myself from Taylor's office as soon as Mike dropped the bombshell.

"_Sharon Beck? Are you sure?"_ I asked him as we strode quickly back to the murder room.

"_Buzz already requested the interview tapes."_

_"Do we know where Henry Mills is right now?" _

"_Ma'am, even though his conviction was overturned, he's still on parole from a previous crime, so his p.o. was able to give me a current address,_" Julio spoke up, having heard the question upon my arrival. "_Me and Sykes can go pick him up. Unless I'm still tied to a desk, I mean."_

_"Go,_" I said immediately, then I said, "_Wait, let me make this official. Detective Sanchez, did you kill Phillip Stroh?"_

"_Only in my dreams, ma'am,"_ he said with a grin. I rolled my eyes and then pointed at the door, so he and Amy hurriedly left the room.

_"Uh, I didn't kill him either,"_ Andy said, raising his hand and speaking tentatively, a cute little half-smile on his face. "_Am I back on full duty, too?"_

_"Yes,"_ I answered, ignoring the little thrill that rolled through me just at the sight of him.

_It's been almost two hours since I kissed him._

That thought came completely unbidden and I shoved it from my mind as I said, "_Lieutenant Provenza, will you and Andy please go over to the county jail and bring Sharon Beck to me?"_

I watched Andy for a moment as he pulled on his jacket, and then I turned to Provenza, who was still in his chair, studying me.

"_What are you going to tell Rusty?"_ he asked with concern.

"_Nothing yet. First I need to find out the truth."_

_"You mean, is it a coincidence that she was visited in jail by a man who not only knew Stroh but who also carried a Glock 19?"_

"_Yes, that's exactly what I mean,"_ I answered.

I don't know how Rusty's going to feel about this, if his mother's behind Stroh's death.

I don't know how I feel about it, either, but I'm hoping I do by the time I talk to him.

But for the moment, I could only deal in facts.

Once they were gone, I turned back to Mike.

_"I need you to pull Andy's cell phone records from Friday night, including which tower was providing service._"

_"Alibi?_" Mike asked, already turning to type as he asked the question.

"_Yes, there should be a call on there from shortly before eleven until sometime after one a.m."_

He nodded, but was engrossed with his task, so he didn't say anything more, and then Buzz came into the room.

"_I found what you needed,_" he said, holding up a data stick and wiggling it. "_Detective Sanchez was caught on camera, heading away from your home, at eleven-fifteen, and then he shows up across town, near his house almost twenty-five miles away at twelve oh-two."_

He plugged the stick into a computer and showed me the footage as he gave the play-by-play, and then he looked at me expectantly.

"_Considering traffic, and the time of death, it would be impossible,_" he stated.

_"Yes, perfect. Mike, what do you have?"_

"_Just one more second,_" he said as he went to the printer. He pulled a paper from it, and then went back to his desk for a highlighter. "_He received a call at ten-fifty, and it lasted for one hundred thirty-seven minutes. The entire thing worked off a tower to the south of him, the opposite direction of your home, so even if he started the call at home, if he'd started driving in your direction…"_

_"It would've changed towers,"_ I finished. "_Great."_

_"Who talks on the phone for more than two hours?"_ Buzz questioned, looking at me to back him up in making fun of Andy.

I shrugged and took the paper from Mike, who was holding back a smile as he said, "_Two people who have a lot to say to each other, I guess."_

I suppose he recognized the number that called Andy.

"_Buzz, please take these down to Captain Wright, and let him know that I've taken the liberty of returning both detectives to full duty."_

I sent Buzz on his way with the cell records and the data stick. It was tempting to do it myself, to rub it in Wright's face, but I'm not going to stoop to his level.

"_Can you check on that glove for me, to see if they were able to pull any prints?"_ I said to Mike as I made my way back to my office.

Once inside, I made a quick call to Taylor to apprise him of our progress.

"_What are you going to do with her?_" he asked me, referring to Rusty's mom.

"_It's not up to me. I'm going to find out if she knew about the murder, or if she arranged it, and then I'll call DDA Rios and turn it over to her."_

_"She's already serving out a deal,"_ he reminded me. "_It'll trigger a full sentence, in addition to the new time."_

"_What are my options? To look the other way and pretend it didn't happen?"_

_"Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to hand this whole thing over to Wright."_

_"Internal Affairs? Why?"_

_"Okay, so not him, but Robbery Homicide. Someone whose son isn't also the son of the suspect."_

_"I'm closing this case, Chief,"_ I said firmly, and I hung up with him just as Mike came into my office.

"_They got a partial print," _he said. "_It's a match for Henry Mills."_

An hour later, I had Henry in one interview room and Sharon Beck in another. They've both been read their rights, and they both waived representation, at least for now. Mills has to know he's in a world of trouble because Julio and Amy found the Glock 19 in question, and sent it over to ballistics. Whether it's a match for our gun or not, he's not allowed to possess a weapon, so he's going back to jail for violating the terms of his parole.

But I'm pretty sure it's going to be a match, so he'll be doing a lot more than a few months for the weapons charge.

Julio is in with Mills, just keeping watch, but Sharon is on her own. She knows most of us, and I didn't want her to attempt a conversation just yet. Leaving her alone in the interrogation room will give her time for the gravity of the moment to weigh on her, so I decided to wait a few more minutes. Everyone else was already in electronics, so I took the time to let my mind wander, thinking ahead to the conversation I would need to have with Rusty.

I felt Andy come up behind me, but I didn't turn around. And while I trusted him not to stand too close when we're at work, at the same time, I was craving the feel of his arms around me.

_"It's the one thing I like about that woman," _he said quietly. "_Well, that and I like her kid."_

_"You like that she apparently arranged a hit?"_

_"On the man who wanted to kill her son. And maybe she didn't know what he had planned for you, but she unwittingly stopped that, too, so…yeah."_

I understand what he's saying. It's part of why I feel so conflicted. But if she knew about Stroh's plan, why didn't she just tell me? Or tell any one of the guards in jail? We could've done something to stop it.

"_Hey,_" he continued, touching me on the shoulder, silently asking me to turn around, so I did, making a point to keep several inches of space between us, in spite of the fact that I'd still like to go into his arms. _"Why don't you let me do this?"_

_"It has to be me,"_ I said with a gentle shake of my head.

I can't explain why it has to be me, but I don't need to, because Andy understands.

He held my gaze for a long minute, and then gave me an encouraging nod, and I went into the interrogation room.

Sharon glared at me as I pulled out a chair and sat down across from her. I keep tabs on her every week, through my contacts at the jail, and I monitor via video her conversations with Rusty, but I don't visit myself anymore, so it's been awhile since I've seen her in person.

"_Captain Raydor,_" Sharon said to me, resentment dripping from her voice. "_I bet you love this, don't you? Sending your lackeys to bring me here at your bidding, keeping me locked up in this room until you decide you have the time… "_

_"Charging my son's birth mother with murder?" _I finished. I knew my choice of words would enrage her, and she didn't disappoint.

"_He is not your son! You think you can claim him just because you buy him some clothes and put a roof over his head for a few years? I gave birth to him."_

_"And you abandoned him. Twice."_

More than that really, if you count the number of times she ended up in rehab or jail.

_"But," _I continued, raising my voice to talk over her protest. _"We're not here to debate parentage. We're talking about murder, and how you convinced Henry Mills to kill Phillip Stroh."_

She sat back in her chair, dropping her gaze for a brief moment, to her shackled hands that rested on the table, and then she looked up at me again, her voice suddenly sugary sweet.

"_Does he know about it? I mean, my little boy? Does he know what I did for him?"_

Her quick concession caught me by surprise, but it also speaks to the fact that she has no real grasp on the fact that she's done anything _wrong._

Stems from a life of getting away with everything, as she basically did until last summer when I enforced her shoplifting sentence. Prior to that, she was an expert at evading repercussions.

_"I need you to start from the beginning, and tell me what happened."_

So she did.

She told me how she met Henry Mills in the library.

_"He knows everything that goes on,"_ she bragged. "_And one day he commented on how my name was the same as some kid his lawyer's trying to get rid of."_

That was a few months ago, and after that, she started talking to him every chance she got, pumping him for details. Honestly, I have to give her credit for even relating the situation to Rusty. She must have actually listened to him at some point, when he discussed his witness status.

Eventually, she and Henry became friends, and she finally admitted to him that the kid was her son.

"_He said you guys had Stroh locked down, that he'd never be able to get to him,_" she snapped at me. "_So what the hell happened, huh? How'd he get away from you? This is you, protecting my little boy? By letting the man who wants to kill him escape?"_

I ignored her well-placed jab and pushed forward with the interview.

_"So Henry visited you in jail. To tell you about the escape?"_

_"Yeah. He said he was indebted to Stroh for getting him out, but he didn't want to see a kid get hurt. So he asked what it was worth to me, to get rid of him."_

_"He brought it up?"_

She shrugged and started picking at her cuticles, and then she yelled defiantly, "_He's my son! And you weren't doing anything to keep him safe, so yeah, when Henry brought it up, I took him up on it."_

_"And what was it? Worth to you, I mean?"_

_"He said he still had some pull with the guards, and that he'd arrange one of those…what do you call it? A visit where you get to…"_

_"Conjugal visit,_" I supplied, interrupting her descriptive.

I felt sick to my stomach.

She arranged to sleep with the guy so that he'd kill the man who wanted to kill her son. How is that better than calling the police? I just don't understand the way her mind works.

_"That's all it took?" _I asked her. "_Sex for murder?"_

She rolled her eyes and then pinned me with a hard stare as she accused, "W_hat, you think men don't want me? I do okay, you know? Better than you, probably, with your little uptight suits and holier-than-thou attitude."_

"_I'm just surprised, considering he was on the outside and could probably find a willing partner_," I pressed, because her mercurial demeanor usually suggests she's not telling the truth. "_So why would he offer to kill just for a quickie in a prison broom closet?" _

Her lack of outburst confirmed that there was more to the story, and after looking at me for a long minute, she finally relented, filling in the last of the blanks.

_"Okay, so the sex was my idea. I've been in here a long time, you know? So don't you sit there and judge me…"_

_"I'm not. And I don't care about that part. Tell me how you got him to do it."_

_"He asked me what my son had on Stroh. And I told him that he molested him."_

_"How'd you know that would work?"_

Buzz's voice came into my ear at that moment, saying, "_Captain, Amy said Henry Mills' file shows he was abused growing up, first by his father and then his uncle,_" and at the same time, Sharon said, _"I told you, we were friends. I knew about his past."_

So she knew about the abuse. And she manipulated him into feeling personal outrage for Stroh.

_That explains the hostile overkill,_ I thought. Henry was getting payback on abusers by killing Stroh.

I took a deep breath and decided it was time to wrap it up, but I still had one more thing on my mind.

_"You had to know we'd find out that you were behind this,_" I said. "_And now Rusty will know."_

_"Are you kidding me? I want him to know. Then he'll see how much I love him, what I'm willing to do for him, which is so much more than you would ever do, and then he won't want you to be his mother anymore. Just me. Because he's my little boy, not yours."_

I know there's no reasoning with someone like her, but I still had to try.

_"You know I've never tried to take him away from you, right? I wasn't trying to replace you_," I explained, but she shifted in her chair, looking down at the table and completely tuning me out.

_"Okay,_" I said as I got up. "_We're going to send you to lock-up for tonight, and tomorrow the DDA can decide what happens from here."_

I headed for the door, and then she spoke up, saying, "_You'll tell him, right? What I did for him?"_

_"Yes_," I answered, turning back to look at her. "_Once again, I'll be the one to give him the bad news about his mother's exploits. I'll see his disappointment and his hurt over your actions, and then I'll do whatever it takes to make sure he moves past it, so that he can have a normal life."_

She shouted something at me as I left the room, but I don't know what she said. I don't care, either. All I can think about is how this is going to make Rusty feel. I know that I'm not to blame for her twisted perspective, but it's still a lot to absorb. It will be for Rusty, too, because if I feel partially responsible, how's he going to feel?

I had initially planned to go talk to Henry next, but I've lost my desire to hear what he has to say. He did it. We know he did it, and the gun currently in our ballistics department will be the final nail in his coffin, so instead, I stuck my head in electronics and said, "_Mike, go in with Julio and get Henry's statement, and then arrange for both of them to go to lock-up until we get a DDA involved tomorrow. Once they're secured, everyone can go home. We've worked enough this weekend, and the paperwork can wait until morning."_

I left before hearing their responses, mostly because I expected platitudes about the interview, and I wasn't ready to accept them yet. Instead, I headed for the solitude of my office, except when I got there, I found Captain Wright waiting for me.

_"Make yourself at home,"_ I said with heavy sarcasm, since he was already sitting in a visitor's chair.

I made my way around my desk, wanting the heavy structure between us, both as a symbol of my authority in this room as well as an obstacle to keep me from putting my hands around his neck.

"_I didn't touch anything,_" he offered, smiling at me in that smarmy way of his. I'm going to have to make a point of keep my division on the straight and narrow, because I dread the thought of having to deal with this guy again.

"_Unless you outrank me, which you don't, protocol is to wait outside the office,"_ I stated precisely.

_"My apologies,"_ he replied, sounding anything but contrite. "_I just wanted to let you know that I closed the case."_

_"Yes, so did I."_

_"You found Stroh's killer?"_

_"And obtained a confession. That's how it's done in Major Crimes. "_

I'm being rude, I know, but I don't care. He hasn't earned anything else from me.

_"You know, maybe we need to start again,"_ he suggested. "_We'll surely be working together again, especially now that you have no authority over Lieutenant Flynn. It only makes sense if I'm the one who handles his complaints and reprimands. And after seeing his file…well, I'm sure I'll be around here a lot."_

"_My lieutenant will report directly to Chief Taylor, not you,"_ I corrected. "_Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."_

I pointed at the door, nodding in that direction to get him moving along, and after a brief pause, he reluctantly got to his feet as he pushed, "_Are you afraid I'll be too hard on your boyfriend?_"

_"I have no doubt you'll be juvenile and unprofessional, so do us both a favor and stay the hell out of my murder room." _

That last remark was said in a much louder voice than I typically use, but I'd had enough of him. It seems he's going to continue gunning for my job, so I'll have to keep my eye on him, but for the moment, I just wanted him gone.

Fortunately, he took my less than subtle hint, because after smiling at me once more, he said, _"Have a nice day, Captain,"_ and then he left my office.

Once he was gone, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, letting out a long breath.

It's now been twenty-seven hours since I first took the call about Phillip Stroh, and I'm ready to go home.

I won't get to talk to Rusty until later this evening, since he's at the beach, which means I'll rehash what I want to say to him in my mind, all afternoon.

How is he going to handle this? He's worked so hard and come so far, and now this…

"Captain?"

Andy's gentle voice called to me from my open office doorway.

He's concerned about me, I know. Dealing with Sharon Beck has always triggered a myriad of feelings in me, and this time was certainly the worst, but I can't think about myself right now, only Rusty.

"Yes, come in," I responded, and I can't help it. I'm happy to see him.

"Rusty's mom is on her way to lock-up. Henry, too. He gave a full confession, complete with the detailed account of how it went down."

"His story matched hers?"

"Pretty much. As much as a man and a woman can agree on the details of anything," he said with a grin, and I found myself smiling back at him, relaxing slightly as I usually do when he's around.

"Great, thank you. Is everyone wrapping it up to go home?"

"Half of them are gone already," he said with a nod. "But hey, Rusty's here."

"He is? Where?" I asked in surprise.

"Break room. I just bumped into him a minute ago. He said he was almost to your office when he heard you ripping into someone, so he thought it'd be safer to stay away."

"I was _not_ ripping into anyone," I corrected.

"Wright?" he asked with amusement.

I nodded and admitted, "Okay, so maybe I was a little."

Standing up from my chair, I went around the desk over to the doorway as Andy murmured, "I hope it was more than a little."

I smiled at him and put my hand on his forearm, squeezing lightly before saying, "Let me go talk to him, and then…"

I stopped talking briefly, checking to make sure no one was in the vicinity before finishing, "Maybe we can spend the afternoon together."

"Is there a nap in our future? Because as much as I loved sleeping on your couch…"

I laughed as I nodded in agreement, because I'm so tired, too, and then I stepped past him, out into the hall before turning back.

"Oh, Rusty didn't see her, did he?"

The thought of him bumping into his mom unexpectedly, while she's in shackles and feeling chatty about her achievement, that's just too much.

"No, it's all good, don't worry," he assured me.

I took my time walking to the break room, trying to decide exactly how to tell him.

_So much for that normal life I'm trying to give him._

What was she thinking?

I've been asking myself that since the day I met Rusty, and I still don't have an answer.

"Oh, hey, Sharon," Rusty said as I entered the room. He was drinking a soda and flipping through a book and looking so happy and well-adjusted. "I guess you finished eviscerating that guy in your office, huh? I was kind of having flashbacks to you getting on me that time, after I got in the fight at school, when you wanted me to stand in the corner to think about what I did."

He closed the book as he sat back to look at me, a playful grin on his face, and in spite of what I'm about to tell him, I had to smile at the memory.

"You're the one who brought up standing in the corner," I reminded him. "I just happened to think it was a good idea."

He chuckled for a moment, and then I said, "I thought you were meeting Kevin at the beach?"

"Yes," he said as he got up from the chair. "I am, but after I left, I realized I was almost out of gas, and I'm low on cash, and my debit card is acting up again, so…"

"We'll order you a new one. And I don't think I have any cash, either, but I'll just give you my card for the day."

"Or I can run out and use it, and then bring it back to you," he suggested. "I don't want to leave you strapped either."

"I'll be fine," I promised.

"Right. Because Flynn will buy you whatever you need," he teased.

"Because I'm just going home," I corrected.

He made a dubious noise, and then laughed again as he started to leave, probably so we could go to my office where I can get my debit card for him, but I held back, causing him to pause in the doorway.

"Hang on a minute. I need to talk to you about something."

"About the investigation?" he asked as he came back to stand next to me. "Did you find out who killed Stroh?"

"Yes, actually. We have the people in custody."

"More than one?"

"One person asked the other to do it, so they're both equally culpable."

He nodded, and then said, "You know what? I don't care. The guy's dead, and if anyone deserves to be dead, it's him. I mean, look at all those girls he killed. And the judge. And the people who were killed just so he could send messages to Wade Weller."

"Rusty, sit down, honey," I said softly as I reached for him, wrapping my fingers around his hand as he looked at me in question. We sat down, and then I bit the bullet and said, "It was your mom."

"Wait, what? My mom? Sharon Beck?"

It says something that he had to clarify using her full name.

"Yes. She met a man in jail, someone who got out a few weeks ago, someone who was also familiar with Stroh. He told her about his escape, and she…talked him into killing him."

Hard words to say, but best just to say them.

And his reaction was what I've learned to expect from him.

Mature and inquisitive, without any sign of the juvenile outbursts he was prone to when he first came to live with me.

"How could she do something like that?" he asked.

"A mother protects her kids," I reasoned, feeling the need to try to explain her actions, even when I don't fully understand them myself. "If he'd come into our home, I wouldn't have thought twice about shooting him."

"I appreciate you trying to make it seem not so bad, but it is. You would've protected our home, but you didn't gun him down in the streets. Why? Why would she do that?"

"I think she wanted you to see how much she loves you."

"God, she always misses the mark when it comes to parenting, doesn't she? How much she _loves_ me? All she had to do was be _present_. Stay sober. Is that so hard? No, never mind. Obviously it is too hard for her."

"Rusty," I began, but he brought his eyes to mine, holding my gaze and looking so strong and determined.

"No, it's okay, really. Did you talk to her?"

"I did."

"I bet she tried to make this seem like your fault, didn't she? Because of the adoption."

"She made the suggestion, yes."

He shook his head in annoyance and said, "It's not, you know that, right? She just always finds a convenient excuse for everything she does. She's going away for a long time now, isn't she?"

"Yes, I'm not sure what kind of deal…"

"No deals," he interrupted. "She's proven for the last time that jail is exactly where she belongs."

"For what it's worth, she does love you."

"I'm just glad it was only someone like Stroh that she had killed," he said, and then to my surprise, he reached over and threw his arms around me. "What if she'd tried to do something to you? I mean, I didn't consider that she had it in her before, but now…"

It never occurred to me either, even knowing how much she hates me since the one-year jail deal, and the adoption.

"Just make sure they watch her in jail, okay?" he finished, his arms still holding me tight.

"I will," I promised.

He squeezed once more and then let me go, and I asked, "Are you okay?"

"I can't let her life affect me anymore," he said reasonably. "She'll only pull me down with her, and after all you've done for me…"

"After what we've done for each other," I corrected with a smile.

"Right," he agreed, smiling back at me. "After everything, I'm not looking back. I know she's my mother, and I can't change that, but you're my mom."

As if he hadn't just flooded my heart, he nonchalantly checked his watch and said, "I'm going to be late if I don't get going. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Am I okay?" I repeated. "Yes, I'm fine. And you?"

"I've got a date at the beach with a hot guy, and you're about to give me your debit card, so I'd say I'm pretty good."

I watched his eyes as he made the casual statement, and it seems he truly is good.

Maybe this was the final straw for him.

He walked with me back to my office where I retrieved the card, and after another hug, I sent him on his way.

A moment later, Andy came in.

"How'd it go?" he asked with concern. "I saw the kid leave, and he looked okay, so…"

"It's good," I agreed, suddenly feeling lighter than I have since Sharon's name first popped up this morning. "Get your coat, and we'll talk about it at home."

I let Andy drive me home, choosing to leave my car at work. It would be silly for us to follow each other to my place, and then do the same thing in reverse in the morning.

And I know, that assumes he's going to stay the night tonight, but I'm good with that. He spent the night last night and nothing happened. Well, not _nothing_, but still…we can be mature about this. It's not like we're going to go home and rip each other's clothes off.

"So Rusty's on his date?" Andy asked, breaking the silence in the car.

I realized that I've kept most of today locked up inside, and I can't do that if I want to be half of a successful relationship, so I turned in my seat, bringing one leg up beneath me, and I moved my hand over onto his thigh, and _then_ I told him everything.

About Rusty.

About Wright.

About Taylor.

It felt good to get it all out there, and Andy's a good listener, asking the right questions to prompt more information.

"He back-dated it all the way to August?" he questioned in amusement as I wrapped up my recount. "See? You really were the only one who didn't see it."

I laughed at his tease, reaching up to kiss his cheek, and by this point, he had pulled the car into the garage, so he put the gear in park and then turned to me, taking my face in his hands and kissing me purposefully. It was exhilarating and arousing and that, combined with our previous conversation, made the whole day's stresses just wash off of me.

It also made me think again about my last night's plan, the one that involved going upstairs and going straight to bed. _Maybe there will be a little clothes ripping going on_, I thought with a smile.

We got out of the car and held hands as we walked inside, all the way up in the elevator and down the hall to my condo. Once inside, he locked up behind us while I dropped my purse on the table near the door, and then took off my jacket and hung it up.

"We have all afternoon," he said as he followed me into the living room. "What do you want to do?"

I paused for a moment, knowing what I _want _to do but needing to be sure in my mind that it's the right thing.

But it is, I think, because there are plenty of possibilities rolling through my mind, for how to pass the time, but the most appealing one is to spend the day in bed with Andy.

Normal? Not for me. Or at least, it didn't used to be.

But maybe it is now, and I like it.

A lot.

So without a word, I turned and headed for the bedroom, undoing the buttons on my blouse as I walked down the hall.

"Um…should I go?" he asked me uncertainly. "Or are you just going to change clothes?"

I stopped at the doorway to my room, turning to face him, and appreciating the way his gaze moves over me and my now-unbuttoned blouse that's hanging loosely, and his clear interest warms my blood.

"Neither," I said, pushing the blouse back off my shoulders and letting it fall to the floor as I entered my room before calling out challengingly, "Are you coming?"

**The End**


End file.
